


And Continued With A Kiss

by emeraldeye



Series: Azalea Trevalyan, Inquisitor [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3036869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldeye/pseuds/emeraldeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping from Haven and making a new home at Skyhold, can Cullen and Azalea finally acknowledge their growing feelings for each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. More Bad News

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is set after arriving at Skyhold and being made official Inquisitor, but before the ball or Adamant.

Azalea tilted her head back, marvelling at the play of sunlight through the leaves, the effect leaving speckled light and shadows on her upturned face. She was sitting in the gardens at Skyhold just resting. The journey here had been gruelling; their supplies low - basically whatever they were carrying when the people of Haven escaped through the Chantry tunnels - and then being forced to leave those who died on the way behind and not spend the time to cremate them properly. Azalea herself had had her own trouble in keeping up with the pace they were forced to keep. The first day she had had to be carried, still being too weak to walk, but after that she had insisted on making her own way. And then, to reach the top of the rise and see Skyhold off in the distance. Well. There was nothing more fantastical that Azalea could imagine. Seeing Skyhold released an overwhelming sense of relief. This was somewhere they could make their home, make their stand. Cullen had assured them that it was built to be defensible and Josephine had said that the damage that weather had wrought could be repaired for the most part. 

After all of that Azalea was taking the time she could to relax and rest some more. Her wrist had healed and only twinged when she lifted something heavy with it, but her ribs still hurt if she coughed or moved too suddenly. But it wasn't just physical healing she craved but mental as well, a chance to come to terms with how much her life had changed and how fast. In the space of less than a month she had gone from circle mage, to apostate, to prisoner, to Herald of Andraste, to the Inquisitor, leader of the Inquisition. When Lelliana had handed her the sword, Cassandra telling her that they had all decided that she was best suited to lead the Inquisition, without even consulting her, Azalea had wanted nothing more than to run and hide. She had felt as though her stomach was going to launch up into her throat, that she would throw up and shame herself in front of all those people gathered. And there were a lot of people! Azalea had never seen so many people gathered in one place and all staring up at her, the whole experience had been terrifying. She had gone through the motions like a dream, play acting at being a confident leader who believed she was capable of not only saving them all, restoring peace and order to Thedas and, most impossible of all, defeating Corypheus. The truth was quite the opposite. But she couldn't let that side show. Vivienne was right, deeds only went so far, people believed what they saw and they had to see someone who was confident and capable. 

"Inquisitor?"

Azalea resisted the urge to sigh hearing Madame Vivienne's voice. She opened her eyes and forced a smile to her face, hoping it didn't appear too fake. 

"I thought you might like some tea," Vivienne said. "I added some elfroot to yours."

"Thank you," Azalea said, accepting the offered cup with a more genuine smile this time. 

Sitting beside her on the stone seat, Vivienne said, "I wanted to make sure you were alright, my dear. You made a very hasty retreat just now."

Azalea grimaced at that and took a sip of the tea. The elfroot made it a little more bitter than Azalea liked, but she had grown used to the taste over the last few days. "You noticed that, huh," she said, a little annoyed with herself. She thought she had managed to not make it look like she was running away but if Vivienne was here asking about it, she had obviously not been particularly successful.

"I did yes, but I doubt those who don't know you as well would have noticed so have no fear of that."

"Yes, I just... had to get away. It was all becoming too much." Azalea sighed. "I know I can't run from it, don't worry about that. And I'll do all I can to make things right. If nothing else what I saw in the future makes me know I have to succeed; the consequences of failure is too terrible," she said staring into her tea, watching the steam curl ever upwards. 

"I'm glad you see that, my dear," Vivienne said. "It is paramount that we use this time to plan and prepare to move against Corypheus. And all of Thedas must see us do it." The woman was silent for a while and both of them simply drank their tea and watched Azalea's new cat play in the garden and hunt the insects that buzzed around. She had named her Enasal, which was an elven word Solas had recommended that meant joyful relief, or the sense of joy felt at overcoming obstacles. Considering how Azalea had found the cat it seemed appropriate. 

"You were one of Lydia's apprentices at the Circle, were you not?" Vivienne asked into the silence.

Azalea nodded. "She was like a second mother to me, more of a mother than my actual mother in many respects. Why do you ask?"

"I believe I can see what she could in you, my dear. You may not have the confidence in yourself, but you have the ability whether you see it or not. You have friends and you can rely on them, but in the end it is you who people associate with the Inquisition and it is you who shall steer history. You need to trust yourself; if you didn't have it in you to be what you have become, Lydia would never have taken you as her apprentice," Vivienne said.

"Thank you," Azalea said with a smile. Vivienne had become somewhat of a mentor since she had joined the Inquisition, she reminded her of First Enchanter Lydia. In some respects it was a comfort but in many more it was an uncomfortable push into the terrifying unknown. "Do you... You don't perhaps happen to know what happened to her? She wasn't with the mages that escaped the Circle with me which makes me think she's likely dead but... Well, it's one thing to suspect and another to know."

"You never heard?" Vivienne asked, surprise clear in her voice.

"No. Should I have?"

Vivienne was silent for a moment then said, "No, perhaps not. Follow me, I'll give you the letter I received."

Standing, the two women left the gardens together and climbed the stairs to the mezzanine level Vivienne had turned into her own. Vivienne dug around in her desk drawers then pulled out a letter. "Here," she said, handing over the letter. "Why don't you take that up to your own quarters to read, my dear."

Azalea nodded and took the letter. "Thank you. I'll return it when I'm done," she said.

"Oh whenever you're ready, my dear. There is no rush."

Azalea nodded again and rose a hand in farewell as she made her way downstairs. The fact that Vivienne was telling her to read it in private already told Azalea that the letter contained bad news. The letter felt heavy in her hands, like lead, as she crossed the great hall and slipped past the door to her new quarters. Despite the obvious bad news waiting to be read in her hand, Azalea couldn't help but smile a little as she climbed the stairs to her room. If nothing else, being the Inquisitor certainly did come with some fantastic perks. The room was bigger than any she had ever lived in previously even from before she went to the circle. Not to mention the views! She had had views in her room at the Circle, but they were nothing like the beautiful snowy mountains that she had here. 

Sitting on the divan by the stairs, Azalea took a deep breath to steady herself and unfolded the letter. The writing was not in a familiar hand but it was written in an official tone.

***

Cullen was supposed to be going over the notifications to be sent to the families of those they lost in Haven but, as important as he knew that work to be, he couldn't focus on it. His mind kept on wandering. Or rather wandering to one particular woman. It was nothing more than silly fantasizing - she was the inquisitor now, perhaps the most powerful woman in Thedas in the absence of a Divine - but he couldn't seem to help himself. 

"Ugh!" he said, a wordless grunt of frustration to match the wordless feelings he was experiencing. 

Pushing the papers away, feeling guilty but knowing he wouldn't get any work done for now anyway, he strode out onto the battlements, intending to take a walk to cool his head and... other places. It was cold out here and he pulled his cloak tighter around him. It reminded him of the night they had escaped from Haven. And the fear he had felt when he thought that they might never find Trevelyan. Even after they found her and she was so cold and she hadn't woken by the time he had rested and came in to check on her. 

Running a hand through his hair, he just kept walking, not really paying any attention to where he was going. Perhaps he should have been surprised when he wound up standing outside the front of Trevelyan's door but knew that the only way he could get her out of his head so he could focus on his work was if he could see her. Maybe he could pretend he was checking on how she was healing, or invite her to a game of chess or something. 

Climbing the stairs, he called out to announce himself, "Inquisitor, are you in? I -" He broke off when he thought he heard something from the room above his head. Crying?

Reaching the top stair, he looked around to see Trevelyan hastily wiping an arm over her face. "What is it with you and always seeing me when I'm at my worst?" she said, refusing to look at him.

"Good timing for when I'm needed, I guess," he said with a small smile. Coming around and sitting on the seat next to her, he said, "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering though, she just handed him a piece of paper, a letter, and stood, walking out onto the balcony that overlooked Skyhold's courtyard. Cullen stayed where he was and looked at the letter, reading it quickly. It was addressed to Mistress Vivienne and included lines of special titles and salutations which Cullen quickly skipped over. 

_It is with regret that we write to inform you of the death of your friend and confidant First Enchanter Lydia. In refusing to side with the rebelling mages and wishing to keep Ostwick Circle neutral, she was unfortunately attacked and killed by mages under her care who were unhappy with this decision. It is because of this act of rebellion that the Knight Commander Roderik invoked the Rite of Annulment against the Ostwick Circle._

There were more details, a list of others killed, both templars and mages but remembering that Trevelyan had been the First Enchanter's apprentice he figured that was what she was upset over. "I'm going to kill Vivienne for thrusting this on you now when you already have enough on your plate," Cullen declared angrily, standing up to go do just that, but was stopped when Trevellyan spoke from the balcony.

"No, I asked her for it. Well, not the letter as such, but if she knew what had happened to Lydia. They were friends so I thought she might know." He heard her sniff and she leaned against the balcony, looking out. Cullen started to join her there before he changed his mind, instead leaning against the doorway. "I mean, part of me knew she was dead. When the templars attacked us and a few of us escaped she wasn't with us. The templars were even killing the children, the wouldn't have spared the First Enchanter if she hadn't escaped. But I guess a part of me hoped that somehow she had escaped with another group, that she never made it to the conclave, that she was alive somewhere and we could convince her to join the Inquisition. She would have, you know. The Inquisition is more concerned with returning peace and stability to Thedas, which was why she kept the Ostwick Circle neutral; she didn't want to add more fuel to the flames."

"You were close to her, weren't you?" Cullen said.

Trevelyan nodded. "She was more of a mother and family to me than my real family. When I first came to the circle I was afraid of what my magic could do. It manifested... Heh. It manifested when I got angry at a servant. I set her dress on fire. She was alright," Trevelyan was quick to add. "I helped her put the flames out once I got over the shock of what had happened. But then my father sent me to the Circle, without even having time to pack. I was so afraid of my magic, afraid I would accidentally hurt someone. The first day there, I spent the whole time hiding in my closet so I wouldn't have to go to classes." Cullen couldn't help but smile at that. In some ways it was hard to imagine their Inquisitor so afraid of the magic that came so naturally to her that she would hide in a cupboard, but another part of him knew that she was a deeply caring woman, that she hated to hurt others so in other ways it made perfect sense. "Lydia found me there. For the first three days, she moved me into her rooms, so I didn't have to see any of the other apprentices or anything. She had me do things like carry a burning candle around, and ice blocks, and tend to fire places. And at the end of each day she would explain how magic was like that candle, or that ice block, or that fire place. It had a use, it made it easier for people to work, or it kept drinks cold. Sometimes it would hurt the person using it, it might burn, but if precautions were taken and the user was careful, the benefits far outweigh the risks."

In truth, Cullen wasn't sure he agreed with that, but regardless even he could see that it was the right thing to say to a girl afraid of her own magic, a fear that would very quickly lead to a possession if she didn't get over it. "She sounds like a very reasonable woman," he said.

"She was," Trevelyan agreed. She sighed and turned slightly so she could look at Cullen. Her blue eyes were red, but clear. "'Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him.' I know a lot of mages cite that line, but she really believed it, and she taught me to believe it as well. In the Circle it was easy. I could help in the infirmary, share my research findings, even help teach a class or two. Serving man was restricted to the people in the Circle for the most part. Here..." She turned back to look out over the court yard. "There are so many of them, and they're all relying on me to do the impossible."

"There are a lot of people looking to you," he said. Pushing away from the door frame, he moved to stand next to the Inquisitor, leaning against the stone railing as well. "But you're not alone. I know you have to keep up the façade of control and confidence, but you don't have to keep that up all the time. You can let the barriers down around those you trust. Around me."

"I know, and thank you, really," she said. She smiled at him, and Cullen could have sworn his heart had just done back flips to see that. She was a pretty woman, somewhat prim and proper with her hair always braided up tightly and out of the way, but when she smiled she was stunning, beautiful. Cullen nodded, and the two of them returned their gazes out over their courtyard, comfortable just sharing in each other's company.


	2. To Cheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian teaches Azalea to cheat, in more ways than one.

"Care for a game?"

Azalea looked up from the letter she was reading to see Dorian standing before her, one hand on his hip. She smiled. "I could do with the distraction. Though I have to warn you, I'm not very good."

Dorian laughed and offered her a hand to help her stand, which Azalea took solely because he was being charming and not because she needed the help. "That's alright, I fully expected to win anyway. Not many people can beat the Fabulous Dorian!"

"Alright then, Sir Fabulous Dorian, let's play," Azalea said.

The two of them set up on a stone table in the gardens and played a few games largely in silence at first. As Azalea had warned, she lost every single one and usually fairly quickly too. Planning ahead with these kinds of games wasn't really one of her strong points and it wasn't seen as overly important in the Circle either. She wasn't a commander to be leading armies, to strategize how a battle might go and how best to take advantage of what may happen. Of course, her training hadn't really readied her for leading the Inquisition either, but thankfully she had Cullen to lean on for that side of things.

"Oh come now, you're not even trying," Dorian complained when he took her game piece yet again. And if she wasn't mistaken it was probably the exact same way he had taken it in their last game. 

"Sorry, I'm a little distracted," Azalea admitted. 

"A particular commander hmm?"

"How did you - No," Azalea spluttered. "No, I received a letter from my family today. It seems they want to visit. Here, at Skyhold."

"Now if it were my father wanting to come here, that would be a problem, being big scary Tevinter mages, but Trevelyans from the Free Marches? Why is that an issue?" He moved a piece.

"If it were just family members that would be annoying but not really problematic. But, while the letter doesn't explicitly say, I can guarantee that it won't be." She moved a piece, which was almost immediately seized by Dorian's. "My last nameday I got permission from the Circle to attend a party my family threw for me and-"

"You had to have permission to celebrate your nameday?" Dorian asked, an perfectly formed eyebrow rising.

Azalea nodded. "It's no big deal. I don't know of permission ever being denied, not for something like that. It's more of a formality so that the Knight Commander can assign a couple of templars to accompany you. And before you say anything about them being guards, they mostly kept their distance. They were just on hand in case anything happened, especially if you're still an apprentice."

"Mmm," was all Dorian said to the matter. 

Azalea knew she wouldn't be able to convince the Tevinter mage that such things weren't as big a deal as they seemed so she didn't even bother. "Anyway, they threw this huge party for my name day which is terrifying enough as it is, but then they must have invited every single unmarried man under forty and insisted that I meet all of them and dance with at least half of them. And then after the party was over my mother wanted to discuss them all with me." Azalea sighed, though whether it was at the memory of that night or the fact that Dorian had stolen yet another of her pieces it was unclear. "They've been trying to get me to marry since I turned sixteen and so far I've rebuffed every attempt by pointing out that it's difficult for Circle mages to get permission to marry. If they did then they would be expected to move away from the control of the Circle. I probably could have gotten permission, being the only Trevelyan daughter, but I didn't want them to know that. Ugh, I lose again."

"And you're afraid that they'll try it again if you allow them to visit?" Dorian guessed as he reset the board.

"Yes. Especially now that the Circles are abolished. That party was the last I saw of them, and I cut my visit short, eager to return to the peace of the Circle."

"So refuse them."

Azalea shook her head. "I wanted to. I said as much to Josephine when she gave me the letter, but she warned me that such a public rebuff could put a lot of the northern nobles off-side. I have to accept." She made her first move, unaware that it was the third time she had made the same opening move. Now it was just something to do with her hands, something to look at. 

"Then tell them the truth."

Azalea looked up to Dorian at that but he was still looking at the game board. "The truth?"

"That you like someone else."

Azalea blushed at that, reminded that he had somehow guessed about how she felt comfortable around Cullen. As though summoned by their thoughts, she caught sight of him walking towards the gardens and, blushing even deeper she sunk down in her seat a little. Dorian, seeing this, looked over his shoulder. Seeing the focus of her attention, he laughed, the deep hearty laugh he had of finding something truly amusing. "And you wonder how I knew about it," he teased. 

"I..." she sighed. Her eyes watched the commander until he turned to enter the chantry. She frowned a little, wondering what would drive him there, if he was alright, or if he was worried about something. But of course, he didn't need a reason to visit the chantry and to be honest there was plenty going wrong that could make him feel the need to visit. Or maybe he had a routine and visited often, every three days or something. The truth was she didn't really know. Maybe she should find out, it would be interesting and -

"Your affections are obvious to anyone who knows what to look for, so just tell your family the truth," Dorian said, cutting in to her thoughts. 

She shook her head and grimaced. "He's not of the right bloodline. They can't get an alliance out of his family if I marry him."

Dorian laughed again. "Don't I know about that," he said.

Azalea smiled, remembering how Dorian had said that he had left Tevinter because his family had wanted him to marry some girl he had no interest in. Coincidentally, she found herself talking to the one person who likely understood exactly the kind of dilemma she was going through, only she wasn't able to simply abandon her family as Dorian had. The two of them played a few more turns in silence, though the term "playing" wasn't really fair when Azalea was still losing in a spectacular fashion. 

"Here's a thought. What if you and I were to become lovers?" Dorian said.

"What?" Azalea's eyebrows would have disappeared into her hairline if they could. "But I'm... I thought... What?"

Dorian's face was practically beaming with delight at having stumped Azalea in such a way. "Yes, I know you fancy the Commander, he's certainly worthy of fancying. But he's not from a good family. I am. We're even related you know."

"Yes, I remember you saying," Azalea said, distractedly. 

"So, you allow your family to come to visit and while they're here, we tell them of the fact that you've found someone without their help, someone from House Parvus. Not only is that a noble house, but it is a Tevinter noble house that could provide them with ties to Tevinter. Of course we'll have to give your dear commander warning or he's likely to try to punch my face in, and the rest of your advisers too. And... Perhaps Bull as well." Azalea rose an eyebrow at that, but Dorian ignored her. "By the time they find out that it's all a farce they will have left and returned home, you'll be bedding your dear commander with any luck," the colour threatened to obscure Azalea's face at that casual comment, "and your family obligations will be upheld. You'll be able to politely refuse them to visit in the future citing that you're far to busy dealing with the end of the world and all that."

Azalea blinked, her mind reeling with what Dorian was proposing. It was perfect. It would solve the issue of her family trying to force her to marry without offending them or making it seem as though she had forgotten her heritage. Dorian was from a noble family so there would be no shame in it, perhaps just a little scandle with him being from Tevinter but, as he pointed out, her family would be able to see what they could milk from this fictitious romance to allow them to overlook that fact. Slowly a grin spread over Azalea's face and she felt truly happy as she hadn't for a long time. "Dorian, you are brilliant, I could kiss you!"

"I know, but best not go that far just yet. What will people say?" Dorian said."And I win. Again. Alright, even as much as I enjoy winning, this is getting ridiculous. I don't even need to cheat!"

"You cheat?" Azalea asked surprised. "How on earth can you cheat at this?"

"Hmm, perhaps I should show you. You might actually offer up a challenge then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually just meant to be a short chapter update, a challenge to myself to write something before 2014 ends, where Dorian teaches Azalea to cheat at chess. It turned into something more that will span a couple of chapters. Hopefully you'll all enjoy it and what it promises :)


	3. A Few Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Azalea kiss and tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting of this chapter, I received some bad news over new years and it took me a couple days to get over it. But it's here now so enjoy!  
> Hopefully I've captured Bull's voice right and it's believable.

A mug of ale was being turned around and around in Azalea's hands. Occasionally she would take a sip but mostly she just stared into it, a small, silly smile on her face. She had meant to meet with Cullen and warn him about Dorian and her plan, to maybe suggest he keep his distance after the official introductions had been made. Instead they had been distracted by... other things. It was all Bull's fault, it was his words that had put the idea fresh in her mind. Bull had wanted her to meet a few of the soldiers under her command and Azalea had obliged. It had been good really, even if it had only reiterated how much they all looked up to her not as a person, but as an idol. In many ways she envied Bull and his charges. He was able to know all the soldiers under his command, it was more like fighting with friends, he knew their strengths and weaknesses and could use both as needed. Azalea didn't really have that option. Afterwards, the two of them had shared a couple of drinks in the tavern, talking about this and that, how each of them had grown up and the like. And then the the topic of commander had come up.

"When are you and the commander going to admit your attraction and go at it already?" Bull had asked, grinning at the blush that it brought out.

Azalea didn't even bother asking how he had known; if what Dorian had said was true then a Ben Hassrath, trained in noticing things, would likely have been the first to see it. Instead, also remembering a throw away comment Dorian had made, countered with "When you do for Dorian. And give me the details."

It had seemed as though Azalea had actually managed to surprise the huge qunari for a moment at that. Then, slowly, a grin spread over his scarred face and he glanced over to where Dorian was sitting alone, eating his dinner. "Aye. You have a deal," Bull eventually said, returning his gaze to Azalea and rising his cup.

Azalea grinned even as she felt a jolt of adrenalin and she tapped her mug to Bull's. She was committed now, no more dancing around it. 

She had hoped to bring it up after her family left but... Well it seemed her heart and Cullen himself had other ideas. Though perhaps she really should check that the man hadn't come down too hard on that soldier who had interrupted them. And maybe privately thank him as well. Their moment on the battlements had began with being soft and tender, but once interrupted and the soldier then left, Cullen had practically rounded on Azalea and their kiss had been strong and passionate and had driven out any memory of what she had originally approached the Commander for. 

Raising a hand she ran her fingers over her lips, still feeling his against them. Azalea had been worried at first; after all, she was a mage and he had been a templar charged with watching her kind, of forever being suspicious of them. And she was equally worried that her love and trust would be betrayed the way it had before. Cullen had soon put those fears to rest with that kiss.

"I know that look," a familiar voice said. "You finally asked him, huh?"

"Perhaps," Azalea answered slyly as she slid across on the bench to make room for Bull to sit. 

"Don't play coy with me, I know what I see."

Azalea chuckled a little at that. "In truth, I'm surprised you haven't heard already," she said. But the again, perhaps that soldier was too terrified of his commander's wrath to risk speaking of what he had seen.

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. I want to hear it from you," Bull replied. 

So that meant he had heard. Azalea sighed, though even then the smile didn't fade from her face. "Yes, I asked him, he said yes, and we kissed on the battlements," she said, before taking a sip of her ale to cover her amusement at Bull's reaction.

"Ah that's hardly worthy of a story! That's like saying your Fereldan Hero recruited soldiers and killed a dragon, end of blight," Bull said.

Azalea couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I would hardly put our relationship on the same level as the ending of the Blight, but very well." She took another drink. "First though, have you spoken to Dorian?"

"Now, now, I'm not telling you your story until you tell me mine."

Azalea grinned. That meant he had, she was sure, but it wasn't what she had meant. "I meant with regards to our plan on how to handle my family."

"Oh that. Yes, he told me about it. What of it? Are you worried I would get jealous?"

"Perhaps," Azalea said. "Well, I was on my way to tell the commander of this plan and ask that, after meeting my family officially, if he could make himself scarce, maybe go on a scouting trip with Harding or something. But then he looked up from his desk and our eyes met and..." Azalea smiled, staring down into her mug of ale, a mug that was getting rather depleted now. His eyes had been the same colour as that ale, a sort of brownish golden colour. "And I had quite forgotten what I went there to talk about. It's your fault," she said, looking up and rounding on Bull. "If you hadn't put that challenge into my head-"

Bull laughed. "Don't tell me you regret it?"

"No. Never that. I... I think it's perhaps the best thing I've done. At least as far as romance goes. Though that's not particularly hard," Azalea added, thinking again of Derrek. She downed the rest of her drink and ordered another one. "I asked if he could ever see me as more of a mage; after what he's been through at the hands of mages I wouldn't have been surprised if he couldn't see past that part of me. Hurt perhaps, but not surprised. It was part of the reason I was trying to keep my distance from him, to respect that. Well, it turns out he doesn't have a problem with that, he just had dismissed it as a possibility because I have been named the Inquisitor. Once we established that I didn't care what people thought of the Inquisitor seeing the Commander, well." Azalea smiled into her second ale. 

"So. Was he any good?" Bull asked over his own ale.

Azalea's smile widened into a grin, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, his hand resting on her waist. "Yes," she said, feeling the butterflies in her stomach once more. "Yes, he's quite... talented."

Bull practically hooted at that, and clapped her on the back hard enough to knock her against the table. "Well I'm glad. With all this shit going on we need to find fun where we can."

"So what about you?" she asked.

"Ah well..." Bull started, rubbing the back of his neck with one massive hand. "Mine didn't go quite so well as that. At least not yet. I found him in the library, flicking through some book or other already tucked away into a little private alcove like he was ready and waiting for me." Azalea snorted at that, highly doubting that Dorian would have agreed with that description. "I leaned in and... We talked."

Azalea waited as Bull took a drink and then fell into silence. "What, that's it? I need more details than that!"

Bull laughed. "He was convinced that I had a problem with him. 'If you have a problem with me just say it,' he said." Azalea couldn't help but grin at Bull's impression of Dorian's superior-than-thou attitude. "I told him, 'I do have a problem. The problem is when we go out in the field you're stuck behind me where I can't watch you.' 'What you don't trust me not to shoot you in the back, is that it?' says he. 'If I were afraid of that, I wouldn't be standing here now, this close to you,' says I. I think I actually stumped him with that," Bull laughed, taking another drink. "Anyway, that was about it before that tranquil woman came up to tell Dorian about some research she did for him or something and he ducked under my arms and escaped. Not before I saw the smile on his face though. No doubt he will claim he was happy that his research was done, but I know otherwise."

"So what's your plan now?" Azalea asked.

"Mmm I don't know. I suppose I'll wait and see how he responds. If he doesn't, I may have to be a bit more clear in my intentions."

"Maybe you should play chess with him, woo him a little. Be warned though, he cheats," Azalea suggested.

"Woo him? You think he'll go for that?" Bull asked. "I don't know, he seemed more like someone who likes it fast and hard."

Azalea blushed a little at the casual way Bull spoke of such things - she still wasn't used to that! - but nodded. "I think he pretends that he doesn't do romance but when actually faced with it, he'll like it."

"Hmm," Bull hummed. He was silent for a little while, just drinking. Then, "Ah, got it. Thanks Boss." And with that he drained the last of his drink, threw some coins on the counter and stood to leave.

Azalea stared after him for a moment or two, then laughed softly to herself, wondering what on earth she had started.


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea returns home to Skyhold, eager to see her commander again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short cause it was actually meant to be the first half of a much longer chapter. However, I am visiting my family tomorrow so may not get a chance to finish it then. I will be bringing my laptop with me so hope to continue updating while I'm away. I just figured I would share what I've done rather than make you wait longer :)

As it was, Azalea had to wait another week before she could speak to Cullen about her family's visit. Instead she had to leave to raid a quarry. Not exactly what Azalea would call a good time, but it had served its purpose, they had found letters that let them find out what Samson was up to so she supposed it was important to be done. Nonetheless the entire time all she had wanted to do was return to Skyhold and spend some time with Cullen. Kiss him yes, but even just to be in his company, to talk or play chess (Dorian's cheats hadn't worked, she was most disappointed), or even just to watch him work though she couldn't imagine he would be particularly impressed with that. 

Finally though, she rode her horse through the gates of Skyhold. She was sure that she was expected in the war room to debrief and receive messages that she had missed in being away but in that moment such a thing couldn't be further from her mind. It was funny in a way. Ever since she had made her feelings known to the commander and they had shared that kiss on the battlements it was as though a trigger had been released inside her and she could no longer get him out of her mind. She handed the reins of her horse to a groom and immediately started climbing the battlements, ignoring the chuckle she heard from Blackwall. She didn't like to say she was running, that wasn't it surely, but even she couldn't deny that she was hurrying. 

Reaching the door to Cullen's room, Azalea barely managed to pause to knock on the door but she was already opening it when she heard the call to enter being given. She paused only briefly to allow her eyes to take in the sight of him, straightening from where he had been leaning over his desk, a smile spreading over his face seeing her there. His mussed up curly blonde hair, those gorgeous warm eyes, broad shoulders... That was as far as she got before Culled crossed the room in three long steps and wrapped his arms around her, an impassioned embrace that Azalea was eager to return. 

"Ah!" 

At least until then. Cullen immediately let go at the cry of pain and held her at arms length, a look of concern on his face while the corner of Azalea's mouth lifted in a guilty grimace. "It's nothing," she said, moving in to hug him again, albeit more gently this time. 

"It's not nothing if you're crying out in pain," Cullen countered but he allowed her to move in even if he did hold her as though he would break her at any moment. "I'm glad you're back, and safe," he said, his voice quiet. 

"Me too," Azalea said. She pulled back only long enough to tilt her head up and bring her lips to his. With her eyes closed she was able to focus entirely on the feelings, the sensations of his lips on hers, his warmth, her warmth in the pit of her stomach, his smell. He smelled different to before, different from when he had lent her his cloak in the Haven chantry, different from when he had carried her through the snow when she was freezing. She couldn't pinpoint what was different but something was. 

All too soon Cullen pulled away, though he left his large hands resting on her waist. "What happened, why are you in pain?"

Azalea grimaced. "There were red templars in the quarry," she said. "One of their swordsmen got a bit too close and I didn't get a barrier up quite in time."

"You weren't able to heal yourself?"

"Not with magic. I've dressed it as best I could in the field though. To use magic I need to numb the area, it's too painful otherwise, but if I numb it I can't tell what I'm doing," Azalea explained with a smile. It was something she had tried as an apprentice and failed dismally at, actually causing more damage than she healed. "I'll get Dorian to heal it for me later."

"That's brave," Cullen said wryly. 

Azalea laughed. "He's not that bad. He knows the basics. Normally I would ask Vivienne but she's looking into something for me. It's either that or mundane healing."

"If it weren't for the fact it would prolong your pain I would rather that," Cullen said.

Stepping back, moving her hands to cover his and bring them from her waist, just holding them both before her, she said, "Tell you what then. If you go fetch Dorian for me, I'll go to my quarters and you can be in the room with me to make sure that Vint doesn't do anything."

"Agreed," Cullen said.

"Then afterwards... I need to talk to you about something," Azalea added. Seeing the look of concern on his face, she hastened to add, "It's nothing serious, well nothing... It's just something we need to organize for when my family arrives to visit, that's all." She was fumbling her words, she knew, but she didn't want Cullen to think that there was something wrong with their relationship.

"That's not reassuring," Cullen said dryly.

Azalea smiled and, standing on her tip toes, planted a quick kiss on his lips. "We're good, I promise. Go find Dorian and I'll meet you in my quarters," she said and she pulled away from him and left his rooms. Her face felt flushed and the cold mountain air was refreshing. Crossing the inner curtain wall battlements, she entered Solas's gallery, gave him a smile and a nod before continuing to the great hall. It was harder to get through here without being held up, many guests insisting on greeting her and speaking to her. Anyone who actually had something important to speak to her about she was able to redirect to Josephine, and those who just wanted to greet she was becoming skilled at responding and dismissing in the same breath. 

Soon enough she was able to slip through the door to her own quarters. The windows had been opened to freshen the room but Azalea moved around the room closing them and lit the fire with a wave of her hand. She then picked up her desk chair and moved it before the fire and considered how she would do this. The templar's sword had sliced into the skin over her shoulder blade and the fleshy part of her shoulder above that. It was in an awkward position and, really, there was no way Dorian would be able to get to it while she kept herself modest. She had been forced to stop wearing her breastband as it was. "Well, at least Dorian will have a laugh," she muttered to herself as she stripped off her outer robes and sat in the chair in her under garments to wait.


	5. Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea warns the commander of the plan her and Dorian had hatched up to deflect the attempts of her family to get her married.

"Are you lost, Commander?" Dorian asked, seeing Cullen enter the library and look around. He stood out as much from his rich golden curls as from the bewildered lost expression on his face. 

"I.. ah.. No," he said, striding over towards Dorian. "No, the Inquisitor needs your healing skills, she was injured in the last mission."

"Right to the point, I see. No small talk? It's not really much of a date then, is it?" 

The blank look on Cullen's face was comical. "What? No, the Inquisitor needs-"

"Yes, yes, I heard you, very well," Dorian said dryly. "Lead the way, I should at least be able to enjoy the view."

"I..." Cullen sighed and obliged, leading the way down the stairs from the library and across the great hall. Dorian had to admit, he did enjoy the view; the commander was a very good looking man. It was just a pity he was only interested in one person. Though with that, Dorian was glad it was Azalea; the two of them had become good friends and he knew that she needed the support. Oh, Dorian could talk to her of magical things, as could Vivienne and Solas, and the commander could help with military matters. But if Cullen could be the one to keep her happy in more than an emotional way. 

Reaching the Inquistor's room Cullen called out, "Trevelyan, are you decent?"

"Not for long," a voice called out. 

Dorian gave a snort of laughter at that and said, "Excellent, you're getting ready for me already." He laughed even more seeing the death stare the dear commander was giving him. Dorian simply pushed past him and climbed the stairs to Azalea's main room. The Inquisitor was sitting backwards on a chair, her arms resting on the back rest. Her shirt was pulled up over her head so her entire back was bare but she had lifted her under shirt over her head so it covered her breasts. It did reveal not only the sword gash but a number of colourful bruises scattered over her body. Dorian heard Cullen give a wordless grunt seeing it.

"Usually you're supposed to avoid getting hit," Dorian said. Azalea snorted in laughter at that. "I don't think I'll be able to do anything for the bruises."

"That's alright, they'll heal fine. I can walk you through how to heal the cut," Azalea said.

"That might be best," Dorian was forced to admit. He had learned basic healing Vyrantium Circle but it wasn't his forte. Unfortunately for Azalea she was perhaps the best magical healer the Inquisition had. Dorian was more suited to flashy things like fire and explosions. 

Azalea rested her forehead on her arms, ignoring Cullen as he sat on the couch to watch. "You'll need to numb the area first," she said. "If you feel it out, they look white, like bright cords threading under the skin. You need to dull them, to quieten them." 

Dorian couldn't help but smile at the description. It wasn't the way he had been taught but it gave an idea as to how she interacted with her magic. Doing as she instructed he heard her give a sigh of relief as the pain was eased and it made him realize how much she must have been hiding her pain when they arrived. "That's better," she said quietly. 

"I thought you said you could numb it yourself?" Cullen said from the couch, his voice slightly accusatory.

"I can. I have to sometimes but it's tiring and distracting to do it all the time so I don't bother when it's not required," Azalea said. Then to Dorian, "If you see the skin and the muscles as fabric with the strands that have been cut, or split. You want to pull them together and reweave them, each strand going under and over the one it's meant to. Then use a bit of heat to melt them together. Does that make sense?"

"It does. I've never heard of healing magic being described that way," Dorian said as he did as she instructed.

"In truth, that's how I taught the apprentices at the Ostwick circle. But it never made much sense to me at first. I hear magic."

"You hear it?"

"Yes. Nerves have a high pitched, pure sound, like a soprano holding a high note. A wound is like... like someone trying to play the violin when they have no idea what they're doing, that screeching. When I heal it's like I'm smoothing out the sound and making it more natural."

"Sounds noisy, I would get a headache."

Azalea laughed at that. "I do, when I'm healing a lot. That's another reason I don't numb it all the time, Cullen," she said. "If I ignore it, I don't hear it, but when I use my magic on it, the noise drives me to distraction."

"I see," Cullen said.

"I don't, I hear," Azalea shot back.

Dorian laughed a little at that, and even the stoic commander cracked a smile. "There," Dorian said. "It's not pretty, but it's probably the best I can do."

"Thank you," Azalea said, raising a hand over her shoulder to feel it. There was a red raised scar there but it would probably fade eventually. 

Azalea pulled her under shirt back over head so she was wearing it properly and stood up. Cullen waited a moment or two, then cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Dorian.

"Right. Well I can take a hint. Have fun, and tell me all about how filthy you both get," Dorian said, then ducked the pillow that the Inquisitor tossed at his head. He laughed loudly, imagining the blushing commander, as he descended the stairs.

***

Azalea rolled her shoulders experimentally after Dorian had left, readjusting to the feeling of the tight scarring there. It still ached but it already felt much better. Dorian's healing was clumsy, she could feel that now that the numbing had been removed, but it did the job. 

"Are you alright now?" Cullen asked, standing and coming close. 

Azalea smiled up to Cullen. "Yes, thank you," she said. She stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek before pulling away and finding a simple dress to pull over her head. She wasn't planning on going anywhere for the rest of the day at least and she missed wearing dresses. The one she selected was fairly plain, a tanned colour with a darker under bust corset that she fastened with a practised ease. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Cullen licking his lips and looking away. She felt heat rise to her own face at the thought that he was thinking those things but she couldn't deny that it wasn't a thrill as well. 

"There was, ah," Cullen cleared his throat. "Wasn't there something you needed to discuss with me? About your family?"

"Yes," Azalea said. She moved across the room and took Cullen's hand, leading him to sit on the couch with her. 

"Your family don't approve of me, is that it?" Cullen guessed. They had discussed this briefly and, while Azalea had acknowledged that her family would care she had reassured him that she didn't.

"My family don't know about you," Azalea said. "But they have been trying to get me to marry since I turned sixteen. The last time I saw them I didn't leave on the best of terms. My mother tried to set me up with a good dozen single men. I... lost my temper at her and left early, returning to the circle. That was right before all the trouble started." Cullen nodded in understanding. "Well, her letter doesn't say, but I can guarantee that my mother won't be coming alone, she will have brought friends with eligible sons to court me. And if I tell them that I'm with them... Well, I can guarantee that the least she'll do is try to sabotage our relationship."

"So what's your plan?" Cullen asked.

"Actually, it's Dorian's idea. No, don't look at me like that," Azalea added seeing the grimace that crossed Cullen's face. "Though I know you probably won't like it. He suggested..." she sighed. "Well, I guess there's no easy way to say this. Dorian suggested that I pretend that I'm in a relationship with him. My family will accept him because of his birth and stop nagging me about it. And once they've gone, I can rebuff them and refuse to let them visit, my social obligations complete so they can no longer interfere when they find out that the relationship is bogus." The two of them were silent for a moment or two, the whole time Azalea was fidgeting, pulling at her dress, brushing a strand of hair that had come loose over her ear, eyes darting around the room. Then, "You hate me don't you," she said. 

"No! No, of course not," Cullen was quick to insist. He turned and took both of Azalea's hands in his, putting a stop to her fidgeting. "No I definitely don't hate you. I can't pretend to like the idea, but I don't hate you for it. I guess I just want to know when the pretence will end."

"As soon as my family leaves. I don't think they'll be here for more than a week, especially when my mother accepts that her meddling is over."

"And what about after?"

"After there will be no need for pretence because I will have performed my familiar duties, they won't need to visit after that."

"So you intend to never see your family again after this?"

"No I..." Azalea trailed off with a sigh. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Cullen said.

Azalea shook her head. "No, I get where you're coming from. It just wasn't something I considered. It's not something that we need to worry about before Corypheus is dealt with. Provided we succeed at that and we both survive then I will come clean to my family about us. After that the marcher nobles' opinion won't matter so much."

"Promise?"

Azalea smiled. "I promise," and she leaned in to kiss him. Cullen leaned in also and guided her to lay down on the couch and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as they kissed.


	6. Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea thwarts her mother's plan to marry her off by pretending to be in a relationship with Dorian, while Dorian gets to know Azalea's twin brother Caleb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little while to get out. I did originally have Azalea talking to her brother in the tavern but it just wasn't coming. Magically I change it to Dorian and Caleb talking and the chapter practically writes itself :D I <3 Dorian!
> 
> Just a heads up though, I'm back at work now so, while I'll try to keep up regular updates every couple days or so I may not always be able to do so (especially if I'm accepted into the diploma I want to do).
> 
> Enjoy!

Azalea and Dorian stood atop the ramparts looking down over the long stone bridge to Skyhold, the banners of the Trevelyan family drawing ever closer and, as she had suspected, accompanied by the banners of several other families as well. Watching them approach, Azalea couldn't help but grip her hands to the stone in front of her, her knuckles turning white. A tanned hand covered hers and she looked up with a smile to Dorian standing beside her. "Don't worry, we'll blow them away with our quote-unquote relationship and then it will be done," he said.

Azalea shot him a tight smile and nodded, but the smile didn't meet her eyes. She wasn't convinced. Dorian and her were friends, yes, but could they convince her overbearing mother that they were more than that? Or would someone else give away the truth of the matter? They obviously hadn't informed the whole of the Inquisition about their scheme, but she hoped that people who didn't know her as well as others didn't know about her relationship with the commander, or if they did or had seen their rather public kiss on the battlements they would believe the story that she and the commander were having trouble and she had turned to Dorian instead. In the end it didn't really matter what they thought so long as they didn't spread the truth around. 

Suddenly Azalea leaned forward, squinting against the glare of sunlight on snow to make out one of the banners, then broke out into a huge, genuine grin. "Caleb!" she called out before pushing back away from the wall and starting to run down the battlements, pausing only when Dorian snagged her hand and pulled her to a stop.

"Anything I should know?" he asked.

Still smiling, Azalea said, "Caleb is my twin brother. He joined the templars so he could be assigned to the Ostwick Circle to be with me but he hadn't finished his training when everything went bad. He covered for me when I left that last party disaster."

Dorian nodded and let her go, following at a more sedate pace. While Azalea grabbed a horse and cantered out to meet up with her brother, he stayed by the gatehouse and watched, a small smile on his face. He was jealous, he couldn't deny that. Once he might have ridden out to meet his family with such eagerness, but now it would likely be with the same apprehension that Azalea had greeted the arrival of her mother. Ah well. It would be amusing to find out what kind of reaction his family would have after word of this bogus engagement reached them. In fact, Dorian rather looked forward to it. 

He watched as the first of the procession passed him and started dismounting in the court yard, a bustle of servants to take their things to the rooms that had been assigned to them, grooms taking their horses, and Josephine overseeing it all like the matriarch she was. There was a chaos to it, but an organized chaos. And Azalea and the templar she was riding next to her who was obviously her brother rode into the midst of it. 

"This is a fine looking castle you have here, sis," the templar said.

Azalea grinned, clearly pleased with his praise. "It's coming along. It was damaged by the weather when we arrived, and some parts are still off limits because they're too dangerous, but it's mostly repaired now," she said. Dismounting she gestured for Dorian to come closer to them, which he did. "This is Caleb Trevelyan, my twin brother and a templar, and this," she gestured to a dignified and stern looking older woman who approached them from behind, "is my mother, Maria Trevelyan." Coming to stand next to Dorian and slipping an arm through his, she said, "And this, this is Dorian Pavus of Tevinter, my fiancée."

Dorian, grinning, executed a perfect court bow, though his eyes never left the faces of Azalea's family's. Their shocked expressions made the ruse worth while and he didn't even have to pretend to be delighted. "Pleased to finally meet you both," he says. 

"Fiancée?" Maria repeated, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"I know, it's all a bit sudden, but, well, after spending so much time together fighting demons and all, we just couldn't deny our feelings to each other any longer," Dorian declared before Azalea could answer. 

"Hmm," was all Maria said, though the tight downturn of the corners of her mouth was response enough. 

Caleb on the other hand was grinning broadly and seemed genuinely pleased with the announcement. Before he got a chance to say anything though, Azalea spoke. "There are a few other people you should meet," she said, leading them to where her advisers were waiting. Dorian kept a careful watch on the commander as the three of them were introduced to her family. He was hiding his distaste well enough, Dorian supposed, but there was one hand he was holding hidden behind his back and Dorian could guarantee that it would be clenched tight. Especially, since he refused to meet Dorian's eye at all. Oh well, he would just spread a few rumours how the dear commander had a thing for their inquisitor but in the end it was Dorian's looks and charms that won the day. 

***

"So how did the two of you meet? I'm afraid you've caused quite the scandal."

Dorian grinned at Caleb as the templar took a seat next to him at the bar. "Scandal and mayhem, it's what I live for," he said, saluting with his cup and taking a drink, grimacing at the taste but getting it down anyway. He rather liked Azalea's brother, though they hadn't had a chance to chat like this without everyone overhearing. Azalea for her part was busy talking to her mother and trying to come her down. Apparently their plan hadn't worked as easily as they had hoped: she was furious that her daughter hadn't even had the sense to write to her to inform her of this engagement. Her excuse was that it was new enough that she knew they would have left Ostwick already but apparently that wasn't good enough for her mother. Though Dorian had caught Caleb struggling not to laugh at his mother's outbursts on several occasions. "The story is actually something that you wouldn't believe even if I told you."

"Oh you're not going to spout that time travel nonsense as well, are you? Azi already told me that story."

"Azi?" Dorian laughed at the cute nickname. "I'll have to remember that one. And yes, that is actually what happened. I know it to be fact because I was the one who invented the magic." Dorian would have felt hurt about the incredulous look Caleb gave him at that if he didn't already know it was a hard to swallow story. "Normally it would remain in the realms of theory as it was when I first started playing with the idea, but it seems that the breach interferes with how magic is supposed to work, amplifying some things and diminishing others. _Azi_ and I are still researching it."

Caleb shook his head, his face still creased with disbelief. "If it wasn't for the fact that I've rarely known Azalea to lie about anything this serious I would never even consider believing you. Would probably even recommend you be locked up for madness. But... So much of what's going on is already mad. I mean little Azi, the Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste?"

"Little? I thought she said you were twins," Dorian asked with an amused smile. 

"Aye, well, I was born first of the two of us and when we were born I was the larger of the two babies. Gregory, our older brother, insisted that I was trying to absorb her into me like some kind of leech," the man snorted at that and Dorian smiled. He sighed then and continued, "I mean the last time we saw her was our last name day, then the next letter we get she says she's safe and at Haven. And then nothing for months. It was only through rumour and other travellers that we hear she was still alive and at this place, some place that just _appeared_ out of the mountains that everyone seemed to know was called Skyhold despite it being abandoned when you arrived."

Dorian grimaced at that and had to admit he felt bad for Caleb. Of course he would worry, especially since she hadn't written since before Haven. Oh of course there were always reasons, what with the whole destruction of the world and all, but he also knew what it was like to avoid contacting family just because it was too hard to deal with. "She was badly hurt in the attack on Haven," he said, as though trying to excuse his 'fiance's' silence.

"Yes, we heard it was attacked, by some mad magister?" Caleb asked, cocking an eye in Dorian's direction.

"You could say that. More accurately it was overwhelmed. Corypheus is the name of this magister or whatever he is, though he's no magister I recognise. Your brave sister decided to hold him off on her own to aim and fire our last trebuchet, causing an avalanche. Our commander found her half-dead and frozen in the snow. She doesn't talk of it, but somehow she survived and tried to follow us, despite her battered and broken body." Dorrian took another drink remembering that. He had been so scared for her seeing her cradled in the commander's arms. She had looked so small and pale, more like a corpse than a living person, and for a while there they weren't sure she would survive. The commander had been convinced it was only that damnable cat at her stomach sharing body heat that had kept her alive and so of course it had had enjoyed prized pampered attention all the way to Skyhold and was still allowed free reign of the castle despite Dorian's obvious and rather severe reaction to it. 

"It's just so hard to imagine," Caleb said quietly, staring into his own drink. "The last I saw of her she was a typical quiet, bookish mage, more interested in her studies and research than anything else around her. She always hated social gatherings, even as a girl, but especially so when our mother kept trying to set us up. I think she was particularly disappointed when I joined the templar order, though my father was proud. Us Trevelyans have a long history in serving the Chantry you know," he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile. 

"What was she like, as a girl?" he asked, curious. Though in truth part of him just wanted to watch those lips move.

"She hasn't spoken of her childhood?"

Dorian shook his head. "No, not a lot. I believe she misses home, something I can sympathise with, so I don't pry."

"Ah well." Caleb leaned back in his chair, resting his drink on his stomach contemplatively. "As you might expect, she was always good at her studies, enjoyed learning in a way that I never did. So much so that she often convinced me to switch places with her," Caleb said with a laugh.

"What, seriously?" Dorian asked surprised, looking Caleb up and down with a new eye. 

"Oh yes. As children, before puberty, we looked very much alike. So much so that if she bundled her hair up inside a hat and I wore a wig, we could change clothes and not even our parents could tell the difference."

"What about that scar on her eyebrow?" Dorian asked, curious how that had happened, but Caleb just shook his head.

"She didn't have that last I saw her. If she had it when you met her then I would guess it would be from when the mages at the circle rebelled. Without that, we still look somewhat alike."

Yes, Dorian could see it now he was looking for it. Oh, he could tell they were siblings the moment he laid eyes on the pair of them riding into Skyhold together, but now he could see just how alike they were, the same dark brown hair, though Caleb's was rather windblown where Azalea kept hers tightly braided around her hair, the same bright green-blue eyes, the same high brow, though Caleb's was largely masked by the way his hair fell over it. Even their nose and cheekbones were the same. Yes, he could easily see how they would be nearly identical before puberty changed them. "So I see," he said eventually. "And I must say, I rather like the similarities," he added, before he could stop himself. 

Caleb didn't seem to notice his blunder though, only grinning and saluting him with his drink before drinking. Knowing that the more he drank the less he would be able to control his, well, his urges, Dorian quickly drained his drink and stood, stretching and ignoring the slight spin the world gave him at his sudden rise. "Well, I think it's time for bed for me. I'm sure Azalea will be kept for hours by her mother so I may as well get some rest before she returns," he said with a lewd wink.

Caleb laughed and said, "I doubt it. More likely she lost her patience with dear mother and stormed off. But give her a kiss from me when you see her, will you?"

"Will do," Dorrian replied with a courtly bow before leaving the tavern, pulling his cloak tightly around him as he was hit by the icy mountain air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter to set up for when shit hits the proverbial fan. Looking forward to writing these next couple of planned chapters!


	7. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several secrets are revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Cullen groaned and leaned against his desk and pain shot through his body. It felt as though his very nerves were on fire and he was alternately dazed and in a fog, and then acutely aware of his surroundings to the point where it was confusing working out all the sensations he was experiencing. Yesterday he had stayed in the courtyard only long enough to pay the proper greetings to the inquisitor's family and retainers before fleeing to his room. Let the others believe he was hiding jealousy in doing so - not an incorrect fact but not one that was forefront in his mind - it was better than them believing he was starting to struggle with breaking the hold lyrium had over him. And today it the pain was even worse. 

Closing his eyes and holding his head, Cullen tried to focus on his breathing, in and out, in and out, trying to make his breaths deeper than the ragged gasps they wanted to be. Azalea had taught him that when he first told her of his wish to be free from lyrium. Focus only on his breathing, block everything else out and only listen to his breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

After a minute or so of that Cullen straightened feeling more in control of himself again. Oh his body still hurt, he still felt as though he were walking around in a dream haze, but he could bare it, he knew he could. He _had_ to. Josephine had organized a feast tonight to celebrate the inquisitor's and Dorian's 'engagement'. The story was they had held off until her family would arrive so they could celebrate it with them. Cullen didn't care, he didn't want to go. Even though he knew it was false, seeing Azalea with Dorian holding hands and smiling all the time, he couldn't help but wonder and worry. What if he drove her away with this addiction? She had every right to fear templars after all that had happened, he had to be rid of the lyrium that made him one of them, but what if he couldn't do it? Would he drive her into Dorian's arms instead? He had seen how relaxed she was with him, she let her walls down in the same way he had thought was reserved only for him, and she seemed to genuinely enjoy his flirting and even flirt right back sometimes. 

But no. She had _promised_ him it was only a temporary arrangement, she didn't feel for Dorian in that way and they were only friends. He could endure this just as he could endure his lyrium withdrawal. 

Pushing himself away from the desk, Cullen drew himself up with a force of effort. No matter how hard things got, he had a duty and right now that duty required him to make an appearance at this feast, and a pleasant appearance at that. Swinging his fur cloak around his shoulders, he fastened it and stepped outside. The icy wind was bracing and it helped to ground him. Coming from southern Feraldan he had never minded the cold, found it reassuring and comforting even, so long as he was properly dressed for it. 

Making his way across the battlements, he followed the sounds of music, laughter, and talking to the great hall where, unsurprisingly, the feast was already well underway.

"Curly! Come sit here, we saved you a seat," Varrik called out to him and Cullen obliged, sitting down between Varrik and Solas, with Cole opposite. He was a little unnerved sitting across from that spirit boy - he seemed to have an uncanny awareness of what was going through everyone's mind and that was the last thing he wanted right now. He just hoped he would be distracted by how many people would be here. Putting Cole and his creepy mind reading abilities from his, ahem, mind, Cullen scanned the crowds. The great hall was set up with three long trestle tables, one against each wall, and a third across it on the dais where the throne normally was. It was this third table that had the Inquisitor, her family, and Dorian seated there. Cullen's gaze was instantly drawn to the gown she was wearing. It must have cost a fortune, made in emerald green Orlesian silks, trimmed in a sky blue with gold threads. It matched her eyes perfectly and brought out the unusual colour of them. Her hair was done up in its normal braids but had added pearls that shone in the firelight whenever she turned her head. She looked truly splendid and Cullen's heart ached for the fact that he could not be with her, could not tell her as much. Her and Dorian sat in the place of command in the centre of the table, side by side. On Dorian's other side was the man Trevelyan had introduced as her twin brother, Caleb. Lelliana's spies and Josephine's connections had reported that as soon as he was old enough he had intended to become a templar to keep his sister company in the Ostwick Circle. He was well on his way on that path when the trouble started though and Azalea fled but, since he hadn't yet completed his training, he wasn't assigned there and thus wasn't involved. Probably a good thing; Cullen doubted that he would have been able to partake in the Right of Annulment against his own sister, not when he had gone there to protect her. It seemed he had finished his training now though but, for some reason, had stayed away from the others in his order and travelled with his family instead. 

Next to the Inquisitor was her mother and Cullen had to smile a little at that; Azalea did not look particularly happy with this arrangement. He knew that mother and daughter had a strained relationship, though he would have thought the woman would be happy her daughter was marrying someone of noble blood. After all, that was the whole point of this charade, was it not? Though he couldn't actually hear what was being said, perhaps the woman was badgering her about wedding plans or some-such. Cullen took a long drink, barely noticing what it was he was drinking or eating. Conversation flowed around him but he was ignored for the most part. Those closest to him seemed to sense his inner turmoil and were content to let him be, a fact he was grateful for.

Most of the feast passed in this manner and Cullen was able to ignore it all. Even when the call was put out for speeches, he mostly just stared into his mug, paying it all no attention. So long as he was seen to make an appearance, that was all that mattered; he didn't have to actively participate. And that was easy enough to manage, especially with the occasional twinge of pain still shooting through his body. 

At least, so he thought until he heard a voice, Sera's, shout out over the din.

"Snog 'er!"

He looked up at that, first a glance to Sera who looked well into her cups, her cheeks red and swaying a little in her seat, then to where Azalea and Dorian were standing, evidently having just been giving a speech of some sort. Azalea was looking at him, just as he was looking at her. Surely she wouldn't, surely she could say something to stop the encouraging shouts and banging. But she didn't, and then Dorian turned her and, holding her head, hand laced in her hair the way Cullen liked to do, he leaned in and kissed her, long and deep. At first Azalea didn't react, but as soon as she did and started returning it, Cullen saw red.

***

Azalea was caught off guard when Dorian actually acted upon Sera's suggestion, grabbing her and kissing her. Then her brain caught up and she realized they had to play the act of newly engaged lovers or her family would never believe it, especially Caleb who knew her so well so, with an apologetic glance to Cullen, she closed her eyes and returned the kiss. And, in truth, it wasn't half bad; Dorian was definitely a talented kisser but it still didn't feel right. His moustache tickled and his lips were missing that rough patch from Cullen's scar. After what seemed like forever, though likely was only a few seconds, they broke away and, blushing, Azalea turned to face the whoops and cheering of the crowds gathered for the feast. Even her mother was wearing a smile. 

At least until they saw Cullen charging up towards them. 

Before either of the two mages could throw up a barrier, Cullen's fist slammed into Dorian's face, sending him flying back. 

"Cullen, stop!" Azalea shouted and, miraculously, the man stopped even as he was about to charge into Dorian again. I'm sorry, she wanted to say. She wanted to kiss him, to hold him and ease that pained look of betrayal from his face. "That's enough," was all she said, though her voice was quieter then. 

Cullen tore his eyes from Dorian's prone form to look at Azalea instead, briefly, before he turned on his heal and stalked out of the great hall. Brief though it was, that glance was enough to send a lance of pain through Azalea's heart and tears sprung to her eyes unbidden. The look of anger and betrayal and _hurt_ was almost more than she could bare. But before she could hurry out after him - her family be damned - Vivienne took a hold of her forearm, stilling her. 

"See to Dorian, my dear," she said quietly. 

Azalea wanted nothing more than to rip her hand out of the mage's grasp and continue after Cullen - it was Cullen she cared about, not Dorian! - but even with her heart ache her brain took over her body in the same way it had when she had accepted the title of Inquisitor. She had a role to play and, for now, that was that of a woman who's lover had just been punched. Drawing herself up, she turned to Vivienne. "Thank you," she whispered, acknowledging the woman's quick intervention from stopping her from straying from her role. "Could you... ?"

Vivienne smiled. "Of course my dear," she said, before she turned to the gathered guests. As she started speaking, apologising for the interruption and distracting them with some story or other from her time in Orlais, Azalea hurried to where Dorian was laying back as though grievously injured.

"What was all that about?" Azalea snapped at the man as she took his chin to turn his face to the light. "You're not hurt that badly."

"No, but it looks good when you come rushing to my rescue, does it not?" Dorian replied with that cheeky grin of his that looked slightly ridiculous with his left eye starting to swell shut. He grunted a little as Azalea poked it. "Didn't think he would hit me so hard though."

"You deserved it, kissing me like that. I'm only surprised Bull didn't also come charging up like his namesake," Azalea said. She took advantage of Dorian's surprised pause to bring a light coating of ice to her fingers and hold it to Dorian's swollen eye to take the heat out, ignoring when the man gave a hiss of pain.

"How... I don't know what you're talking about," Dorian tried.

It was Azalea's turn to give a snort at that. "Yes you do. You're not the only one who can see what goes on beneath the surface. Don't worry, I doubt anyone but Cole has noticed, but I do travel with you two more than anyone else. I was bound to notice something." Sighing, she pulled her hand away and checked over the eye. The ice had drawn the swelling out but it was still colourful. She could probably draw that away too but in truth it would probably help their cause if there was a visual reminder. With a slight wave of her hand she numbed the area so that, even if it wouldn't be removed entirely it wouldn't be sore. 

"I could have done that you know," Dorian complained.

"I know." Azalea glanced over her shoulder towards the doorway Cullen had left through. "I'm guessing there's no politically correct way I can go to him now, is there?" She stood and offered Dorian a hand up, which he took. 

"Probably not but I'm sure no one will mind if you leave early. I, however, am going to plead a headache and retire."

Azalea scoffed. "Tell Bull he's a lucky... bull," she said, grinning at the blush her comment caused and watching as her 'fiancee' left. It was with no surprise that Bull excused himself soon after.

Slowly, painfully slowly it seemed to Azalea, people started drifting off and, as soon as she judged it polite enough to do so, she excused herself. Saying she wanted to walk the battlements for an hour or so to clear her head before bed gave her the perfect excuse to visit Cullen's rooms. The wind outside was freezing and her Orlesian silken gown, while fine inside with the warmth of the roaring fires, was totally unsuited for the mountainous winds and she wrapped her arms about herself in an attempt to keep the heat in. Nonetheless, she paused outside of Cullen's door, nervous about what she would find within. Would he accept her and her apologies? Would he even want to see her or would he turn her away as soon as he laid eyes on her? Or, worse, would he scream and shout, and then break up with her. The fear of that was nearly enough to turn her away, to cause her to run back to her own rooms where she could go to bed and hide under the cover and pretend that none of this was happening, at least for a little while. But she knew that if anything was to end their relationship it would be her not apologizing for what happened. Still she hesitated, trying to mentally work out what she would say to him.

_Crash!_

The door was flung open and Azalea hurried inside before she was really even aware that she had made the decision. WIth a glance she took in the complete disorder of the room; it looked as though someone had attacked him here. His desk, that big solid thing, was over turned, the contents spread over the floor, his chair smashed against the wall, books swept from the shelves. But even all this devastation, Azalea had eyes only for Cullen. He had his back to her and seemed not to have noticed her come in. He was standing against the opposite wall to her, his arm up against the wall and his head resting against his forearm. His cloak had been abandoned and it revealed scratches on the back of his neck. 

Concerned, Azalea took a step forward. "Cullen?"

"Stay back!" Cullen snapped, though his voice sounded strange, kind of dazed. "Amell... what have I done to you?" Cullen said in a hoarse whisper. 

Azalea frowned. Amell? Who was he referring to? The Amells had been involved in both the Blight in Fereldan since the Hero of Fereldan was an Amell, and the events in Kirkwall. Regardless, Azalea figured she could ask it later. 

"Cullen, it's me," she said quietly, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. She was unprepared for the sudden reaction that caused, Cullen's arm lashing out and shoving her none too gently. Before she could fall fare though that shoving hand turned to one that gripped her forearm and held her upright. "Maker, I'm so sorry," he whispered as he drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. "I thought... I didn't know it was you."

Azalea let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding as she returned the hug, noting with concern the trembling muscles beneath his sweat-soaked shirt. And his heat. Frowning, she pulled away and rose a hand to his forehead. It was burning up. "You have a fever," she said, letting her hand cup his cheek. He leaned his face into her hand, seeming to take pleasure from the coolness of her skin. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Cullen shook his head. "Not sick. Just... withdrawal. From lyrium."

"Is that what this is?" Azalea asked, a sweeping hand gesture taking in the devastation of the room around them. 

Cullen blinked and stared blankly at the room as though noticing it for the first time. "I guess it is," he said slowly. 

"Come on. Let's get you up that ladder and into bed," Azalea said, leading the commander to the ladder and practically pushing him to go up it before her. She was worried that he might fall but he managed it, though it left him breathless, sitting on the ground as Azalea climbed up herself. She slipped an arm around him and helped him to the bed where, she figured, if he was going to pass out he could at least be more comfortable. "Let me have a look at your hand," she said. Taking it, she tsked over the bruised knuckles but as she called upon her magic to heal it, Cullen snatched his hand away.

"No!" he said. "No magic. Please."

Azalea looked at him for a long while, then nodded and said, "Alright. No magic. I promise. But I'm staying with you tonight."

"You can't. Your family-"

"Can be sent to the Fade for all I care right now. You need me. That mess you made downstairs is proof enough of that and I know you're in pain. Besides." Reaching up to her shoulders, she pulled a few strings and the ties loosened, her dress pooling on the floor around her feet, her nipples pert from the cold, obvious through the sheer material of her undergown. "You wouldn't really send me back to the great hall in such a state of undress, now would you?"

"No, we can't have that," Cullen said. 

Glad to finally see that half smile she loved so much, Azalea crossed the room to Cullen's bed, lightly pushing him to lay down in it and laying down next to him. She wasn't interested in sex with him (well that's a lie, she was very interested in sex with him, just not at this very moment) and she doubted he would be up for it either but that didn't mean she couldn't comfort him in other ways, however she could. No one would miss her for the rest of the night, all would be fine.

***

A dark eyebrow rose as Caleb watched his sister enter the commander's rooms and no leave them. She had even neglected to close the door behind her so he had seen that rather intimate display between the two of them even if he couldn't hear what was being said. It made it abundantly clear to him what was going on and he had to admire his sister for her cunning, and for the loyalty of her friends to carry on with the scheme. It meant a change in plans but his plans could still go ahead. 

Watching until he saw them climb a ladder to the upper level - a level he knew he wouldn't be able to peer within - Caleb left to his own rooms, carefully closing and locking the door behind him before using his templar abilities to negate all chance of magic being used within the room. He didn't sense anything and he doubted anyone suspected anything, but that didn't mean he could be careless. Pulling the amulet from its hidden pocket in his pack he looked at it a long while. The red tear-drop gem caught within a golden clasp whispered to him, called to him, though he couldn't understand the words. Sometimes he almost thought it sang to him and he wondered if that was what Azalea heard when she described how she could hear magic sing to her. It didn't matter. He had a job to do and soon it would be time for him to do it. He just had to notify his superiors to the change in plans before he could go through with it.

Taking what looked like a broach from his pocket, he placed it on the desk and sat before it. Running a finger over the gem seemed to activate something inside it and, though he had no idea how the magic worked, he heard the voice through it nonetheless.

_"Yes? What is it?"_

"It seems the Inquisitor has been deceiving us all. It is not the Vint she fancies at all, but her commander."

_"Is that a problem?"_

"He may be harder to control. He's a templar as well so our normal methods will not work against him. And he will be more protected than the Vint. Though he seems to be unwell or something."

_"What is his name?"_

"Cullen. Cullen Rutherford."

A pause.

_"He will be no problem. He was tortured while in the mage circle in Fereldan. He was in love with a mage named Amell. Use that against him and he will break easily. The inquisitor will be keen to keep her romance a secret. Proceed as planned."_

"Yes, my lord," Caleb said and, with a touch, the gem went silent once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUUUN!


	8. Mother, dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea and her mother have a 'heart to heart'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one so there is a sense of time passing between the last chapter and what will be happening next.

"Mother, please," Azalea pleaded, running an exasperated hand through her messy hair. It was barely an hour past dawn and already her mother had barged into her room, unannounced mind, and demanded to know why there were preparations to leave being made in the Skyhold courtyard. 

"Don't you 'Mother, please' me!" Maria snapped. "I _know_ when you're planning to get rid of me. It was the same in Ostwick only this time I'm the one who'll be leaving instead of you. I have not said I am ready to leave yet and frankly you need me around what with this wedding to plan and all, and I know you haven't done any kind of planning in that regard. Does Dorian's family even know about your engagement?"

"No not yet," Azalea said with a sigh, lifting Enasal from her lap where she had been sleeping to the bed beside her before removing the blankets and standing with a stretch. "He's not on the best of terms with his family," she said. "They're working to mend that but we decided we didn't want to rush things. Corypheus is the real threat we have to-"

"Yes, yes. That's all I hear from you people Corypheus this, Corypheus that. There are more important things that that insane magister you know and they need to be organized so that when you tire of this Inquisition business and you come home you will be ready. I can accept holding off the wedding until then - though don't you dare go spreading your legs for him until then! - but plans must still be made!"

Little did she know that ship had already flown, Azalea thought to herself. It wasn't something that she was going to tell her mother, however; she would only fuss how she had given up her 'greatest womanly gift' to someone she wasn't married to which had obviously been the reason that relationship never went anywhere. It was something that Azalea just couldn't deal with at the moment. "Yes, plans must be made, and you're free to make them. At Ostwick."

"Azalea Boudica Trevelyan, I refuse to be-"

"Now if you would just let me explain I would have been able to tell you that the preparations you're seeing aren't for you," Azalea cut in impatiently. That seemed to shut her up at least, however briefly. 

"Who are they for then?"

"Myself. The Inquisition has been offered an alliance with the Qunari, as well as the use of one of the dreadnaughts. You may be dismissive of the threat Corypheus poses but I am not and we need all the help we can get. Therefore I intend to leave around midday for the Storm Coast with Dorian, Bull and Varrik."

"The tall one and the short one?"

Azalea turned her back on her mother then to hide her smile. "Yes," she answered. Going to her chest of drawers, she pulled out her more practical leathers and a tub of sheep's wool oil to waterproof them. "Bull is Qunari and it's his people who are offering the alliance. Dorian is my fiancée so of course I want him to come, and he's magic is a useful back up to my own. And Varrik is... Well he's good with that cross bow of his and he is less likely to balls up this alliance by saying the wrong thing like Sera is," she said. Her mother nodded in agreement to that; despite the fact that the two Trevelyan women rarely got along, Azalea respected that her mother was very good at planning things so she was relieved that the woman agreed with her choice of companions for this journey. She may not know her companions as well as Azalea did but she had met them all and knew enough to get a sense of them. "I was hoping that you and your retainers would come with me and we could see you across the straight to Ostwick before meeting with the Qunari. Has Caleb told you he intends to stay with the Inquisition?"

"Yes," Maria said, though the pursing of her lips made it clear that she wasn't happy with the idea. 

"You still have Gregory to fuss over and it's not like Caleb wouldn't have been sent away from home anyway if the mess at the Conclave had never happened. He's a good fighter and I've seen him sparring with Blackwall and Cassandra. Even they have to admit he's talented, if a little brash. We need him here."

"Yes yes, but that's another thing, that conclave. Why on earth did you feel the need to go there? After the mages rebelled you should have stayed out of it and come home! Not gone gallivanting off across the countryside to who knows what danger!"

Azalea, part way through waterproofing her armour, paused at that. "The _mages_ rebelled? Mother, do you even know what happened there?"

"Of course I do! The mages who were unhappy with the First Enchanter's decision to remain neutral and not attend the conclave rebelled. What I don't understand is what you were doing getting yourself mixed up in it all."

Belatedly, Azalea remembered reading something of that sort in the letter Vivienne had given her, that the letter had blamed the mages for what had happened as well. She supposed it was no surprise; no mages remained there to tell the truth, they had all either fled all been killed. Of course the Knight Commander would want to paint his templars in the best light even if that meant discrediting all the mages who had lived there with lies. She sighed and stood up straighter.

"No mother," Azalea said. "It was not the mages who started the trouble there. There were a few malcontents, it is true, but nothing more. Nonetheless, that was enough for the Knight Commander to enact the Right of Annulment. He gave the orders for the templars to trap and kill every mage within the circle. No exceptions. Even the youngest of all the children were killed without mercy. If Caleb had of completed his training he would have been forced to participate as well, he would have been forced to kill me. I got this in the fighting," she said waving a hand in front of her face. Her mother had asked how she got it, of course, but Azalea had said only that she got it fleeing the circle. "I was knocked out in the attack and carried away by a friend who managed to escape. Of course I could have returned to Ostwick and to you, but the templars would have counted the bodies, identified them. They would have determined who was not among the dead and used our phylacteries to find us. I could have returned home, but the templars would have found me and their rite would not be considered complete until all the Ostwick mages were killed. They would have demanded Father hand me over. What do you think he would have done? He would have to choose between watching his daughter be killed or his whole family. I know he would have given me over to them and I would not have blamed him but I didn't want to force him to make that decision. So I fled. I went to the conclave in the hopes of being a voice of reason, of bringing peace and ending the fighting between the templars and mages. But I can promise you, it most definitely was not the mages who started that."

As Azalea watched, she saw every word she spoke make her mother grow paler and paler until, grasping the couch, she lowered herself down to sit in it. "I didn't know," she said quietly. 

Azalea softened at that. She knew that, really, her mother did care about her. They disagreed yes, but only because they had different opinions on what was best for Azalea. Perhaps she had been too hard on her, thrusting all that new information on her at once, but it was the only way she knew how to get through to her. "I know," she said quietly. Abandoning her leathers for now, she crossed the room and sat next to her mother, taking both her hands in hers, noticing for the first time how thin they were, how paper-like her skin had become with age. Her mother was getting older, it made sense that she wanted to see her daughter married as soon as possible. Part of Azalea felt bad for deceiving her as she had, but it was too late to go back on that now. Besides, she knew that, in the short term at least, it was for the best. Dorian was right, her mother would be distracted for a while and would stay away from the Inquisition, and thus protect her. 

Her mother took Azalea's left hand and turned it so she could see the mark on the palm. "Is it also true what they say? That Andraste led you out of the Fade? That you're the only survivor?"

"I am the only survivor within the blast radius. As for Andraste leading me from the fade..." Azalea shook her head. "I don't know. I don't remember what happened. I don't even remember the explosion or anything leading up to it. The last thing I can recall with any clarity was arriving at the conclave. Then nothing until I woke up in prison. But when I found out that this mark, whatever it is, can close the rifts, then I couldn't just do nothing. How could I live with myself if I had? It was hard enough the first time I killed someone," her mother shot a hard look to her at that but Azalea continued as though she hadn't noticed, "I wouldn't be able to handle knowing however many hundreds of people had died because I was too afraid to do what I must."

Her mother's eyes had returned to the mark on her hand, running a thumb over it, back and forth. "Does it hurt?" she asked, and Azalea could have sworn she had heard some hesitancy in her voice at asking the question.

She smiled and answered, "Not so much any more. When the breach first appeared in the sky, yes, more than anything. But now it's closed it doesn't really. I think I'm used to it, barely even notice it any more."

Her mother merely nodded to that and after a few seconds let go of her daughter's hand and stood. "Well, I think you have everything well in hand here. I shall go get ready to accompany you to the coast," she said briskly before turning on her heel and leaving the bedroom. Azalea couldn't help but smile to herself. That was as close to an apology from her mother as she had ever gotten.


	9. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea returns to Skyhold after the unsuccessful attempt at a Qunari alliance to find Cullen missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have taken some liberties with what red lyrium is capable of. I think it's plausible but if anyone has any evidence to the contrary feel free to share it :)

Azalea rode back in to Skyhold with mixed feelings. This was the first mission the Inquisition had undertaken that they hadn't been successful in since that first attempt to close the breach. Bull was putting on a good show if only for the moral of his men, but Azalea could tell it was just that: a show. Azalea hadn't hesitated when she told Bull to order the Chargers to retreat - loss of life was expected but she refused to allow needless loss of life and there was no guarantee that the Charges would have been able to hold off the Venatori long enough to allow the dreadnaught to do its work. She had figured that, even should that mean the end of the alliance, when the dreadnaught sunk they could do what they could to rescue any Qunari from the sea. Instead the ship had exploded, instantly killing everyone on board. There were no survivors washing up on shore, only half-charred bodies. The sight had made Azalea sick, though she had had the presence of mind to pretend to be going to the bushes to relieve herself first. Nonetheless, she predicted a fresh wave of nightmares to start plaguing her.

Speaking of nightmares, Azalea wondered how her commander was doing. After she had spent the night with him (stealing a shirt and pair of pants from him so it didn't look as bad as sneaking back to her room in the dress she had wore to the feast), he had seemed better once he woke, more himself. He still complained of a headache but claimed it was a manageable one. Azalea had had no choice but to believe him. She had paid him a quick visit before she left to meet the Qunari delegation and he had seemed almost back to normal then, though he had said such episodes would come and go. Well, she thought as she dismounted and handed the reigns of her horse to a groom, she would just have to go see him.

Walking over to Bull, she rested a hand on his forearm. "Will you be alright?" she asked quietly so that no one would overhear. 

Bull gave her a smile, but she saw that it didn't meet his remaining eye. "I'll be fine, boss. You go see your commander," he said with a teasing wink.

Despite the fact that she knew her inner circle was aware of her relationship with Cullen, the comment still brought a slight blush to her face. Nonetheless, she nodded, saying, "Well call me if you need me. Any time."

Bull nodded and clapped a big hand to her shoulder hard enough to buckle her knees a little before walking over to his Chargers. 

Azalea moved to Dorian then, who was watching Bull with the same concern that she felt. "Look after him," she said quietly. Dorian didn't answer or take his gaze from Bull but he nodded in acknowledgement. 

That sorted, Azalea climbed the battlements to go see Cullen, feeling the familiar butterflies that always seemed to assault her stomach when she would visit him. She dreaded telling him that the Qurnari alliance had failed, that it was her call that had caused it to fail. She wondered what he would have done in her place? Sometimes she wished that he were the Inquisitor, the one to make the hard decisions. He seemed so much more capable at it, so much more comfortable. It was a hard decision either way - on the one hand the Chargers were soldiers who expected to give their lives to a cause, but on the other hand, they were people, friends, and obviously very important to Bull. Azalea didn't regret her decision, but she did regret being forced to make it.

Knocking on the door, Azalea frowned when she didn't hear the expected call within. Opening it, she found it empty. Confused, she checked upstairs - maybe Cullen was unwell and resting - but that was empty as well. Leaving the tower room, Azalea approached the first soldier she saw, a group of them standing around outside. "Excuse me, do any of you know where Commander Cullen might be?"

"I believe he went down to the cells, milady," one of them replied.

The corners of Azalea's mouth turned downwards; she wasn't aware of any prisoners she had yet to judge, she normally kept on top of those kinds of duties. "You don't happen to know why?"

The soldier shook her head. "Sorry, no milady."

"Alright, thank you," she said before taking her leave and heading down to the dungeons. 

She had barely crossed the courtyard before she was forced to stop suddenly as Cole materialized in front of her. Azalea held a hand to her heart to try to still it's racing. "Cole, don't do that!" she reprimanded as she felt her heart start to return to a normal level. "It scares me half to death."

Cole frowned. "You are not dying," he said.

Azalea smiled at that despite her worry. "It's a figure of speech," she explained. "It means you scared me. What's wrong?"

Azalea saw Cole's eyes, barely visible from under his wide brimmed hat, glaze over. "Ripping, rending, rupturing. Pain like nothing before the circle with the demons. I wont tell them anything, they can't get her, she can't know. But it hurts, it hurts, _it hurts_!"

Azalea felt a chill go over her. "Who? Who are you sensing?" she asked. 

"The lion," Cole said, his voice a whisper. 

"Cullen," Azalea said breathlessly, her worst fears confirmed. Snapping into action, she said, "Cole!" sharply to get his attention. When his eyes cleared and focussed on her again, she said, "I'm going to need help. Get Bull, and... Varric, meet here and then come to the dungeons together. If whoever is there is powerful enough to overpower Cullen you should all come in together." No sooner had she finished talking than Cole had vanished once more. Azalea, however, didn't wait around and ran into the dungeons herself to find the guard that was normally there missing. Of course it was possible that the guard was on a bathroom break so Azalea waited for a few minutes. When the guard didn't return however Azalea really began to suspect something was wrong, though she didn't have to wait long for confirmation. 

" _Aarhhhhhhh_!"

Gooseflesh sprung up over Azalea's skin upon hearing that blood-curdling scream. Without even really thinking about it, she ran through the door through which the scream had come from. It sounded like Cullen's voice but she had never heard such an agonized scream from him; shouts of anger and frustration yes, but this was completely different. The door she went through led to a few cells either side of a large open chamber that crumbled away into nothing at the end of the chamber and in the middle. It was never used because it was judged too dangerous. She didn't get the chance to take anything more in when an all too familiar invisible force struck her, knocking the breath from her lungs and driving her to her knees her connection to the Fade forcefully removed. It didn't hurt, not exactly, but it felt as though she had been drowning and her head just broke the surface of the water, even if it were only for a brief moment it felt as though her lungs were constricted, then suddenly loosened. 

As she tried to relax and stop the instinctual reaching for her magic that she knew she could never reach, she hear a whoop of laughter. "You were right, boss! She came running just as you thought!" 

That voice was unfamiliar but the one that followed was. 

"Azalea run! Get - Arh!" 

"Cullen!" Azalea shouted and she tried to get up but before she could do anything - be it run towards the screaming or away to find the others - an armoured body stepped into her view and rough hands took a hold of her arms, hurling her upright and along the crumbling stone to one of the cells. She struggled, of course she did, but without her magic and with two strong men holding her she had no chance. One of them drew a sword and used it to slice through the straps that held her staff to her back and took that away from her so that even that option of attack was removed. As they came to a cell and Azalea saw Cullen she thought her heart might stop. His shirt had been torn off him and was laying on the ground nearby and he was chained to the wall, arms spread wide and held above his head. His body was covered in blood, bruises, and what looked like electricity burns. There were also others there, in templar armour and, she was horrified to see, two Venatori mages. All of the templars wore their helmets so she couldn't see who they were, but one particular voice was another matter. 

"Good, secure her on that wall there," one of the templars, the one who seemed to be their leader said. 

Azalea felt the blood drain from her face; she had heard that voice every day of her life there was no way she could mistake it. "Caleb? What on earth are you-" She was cut off when one of the men holding her back-handed her across the mouth. Blinking the tears that sprung to her eyes away, she spat bloody saliva out to the side. 

"Shuttup," one of them growled. 

Azalea ignored them even as they secured her arms in the same way Cullen's were but to the wall opposite him. Instead she stared at the templar she was sure was her brother. "Why Caleb? I thought we-" Pain flared from here stomach where a mailed fist slammed into her, knocking the air from her lungs. 

"Leave her alone," came the pained voice from her commander. 

Caleb turned to him saying only, "You've served your purpose," before smacking the pommel of his sword into his head.

Gasping, trying to get her breath back, Azalea got out, "Let him go," she said breathlessly. "If he's served his purpose let him go to get healing."

"Later, perhaps," Caleb said and Azalea was relieved at least that he wasn't simply killed. "For now, I have other priorities." Azalea said nothing to that - when she had tried to ask before she had been struck but so far - but watched as he went to the corner and pulled something from a bag there. Her eyes widened seeing the necklace, instantly recognising the red pendant as red lyrium. 

"What are you doing with that, Caleb, it's dangerous!" she said before she could stop herself. The templar to the side of her rose a hand to strike her again but, at a gesture from Caleb he stopped. 

"Perhaps," Caleb allowed. "But it's useful as well. Watch." He strode towards her and reached around the back of her head, taking a handful of hair and holding her head still and brought the pendent to touch her head. The effect was instantaneous: A high pitched screeching, squealing in her ears, so painfully it felt as though her head would explode. In the back of her mind she knew it was magic she was hearing in the same way she could hear all magic, but it was different, wrong. It was like a nail scratching down a slate combined with a strongly thrumming vibration that made her feel sick to her stomach. And screaming. There was screaming in the distance. Hers she realized, but she couldn't seem to stop it. Normally pain was described as white hot and that was an apt description since that was often what people saw when experiencing excruciating pain. This was something different though, the pain was beyond anything she had felt before, but it was red, bright red, the colour of the red lyrium, surrounding her, consuming her. It wasn't just her head though, or the illness in her stomach. Her hand felt as though it were on fire, the hand with the mark. It felt the same as it had when the breach was still active, only worse, more intensified. 

And then suddenly it was gone. Turning her head to the side, Azalea promptly vomited up the contents of her stomach. The bile taste in her mouth making a foul accompaniment for her gasping breath. From a distance, she heard Caleb's voice. "It's not working," he growled.

"She must need to be broken for it to work properly," one of the Venatori said.

"I'll break her," one of the templar's said, his voice lewd and, out of the corner of her eye, Azalea saw the blurred image of him grabbing his crotch suggestively.

"You will do nothing of the sort!" her brother snapped. "She may have something our master needs, but she is still my sister and a Trevelyan. I would rather have her killed than have you defile her in such a way." A pause. "Do what you need to then. If worst comes to worst we'll just cut her hand off and give the mark back that way, though I would rather try other methods before something so permanent."

"As you wish," the Venatori said. 

That was the last she heard before what she recognised as electricity shot through her body, making her muscles convulse, driving the air from her lungs as jolt after jolt struck her, barely giving her a chance to catch her breath. It hurt of course, but more than just in her muscles, she felt her skin burning as well. Perhaps worse than the pain was the smell, a kind of roasting pork smell. Just as blackness started to intrude on her vision, the hand was to her hair again and the pendant brought to her forehead and once more that screaming, screeching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know you all hate me for that ending :P But rest assured I'm already working on the next chapter, I'm hoping to have it up tomorrow :)


	10. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition rallies and comes to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my mind several times about how this was to be written, so if you spot any inconsistencies let me know and I'll fix them up.

"And then he went running through the camp with no clothes on!" 

Bull smiled as he was expected to at the climax of Krem's story. This was good, really. It was distracting him and keeping him from dwelling too much in his own thoughts. And the drink helped as well. He had allowed his boys to crack open a cask of the good stuff in celebration of getting through the events on the Storm Coast. He would prefer to be celebrating a new alliance with them but, when it came down to it, he would make the same decision again. Watching his Chargers celebrate with him here, he knew that he had made the right decision. 

Bull was just taking a mouthful of his drink when that damn spirit boy Cole suddenly appeared in the middle of the table, causing him to choke a little on his drink. "Maker's breath," Krem swore. 

Cole ignored him though, speaking in that strange way of his. "It hurts her that he is hurting. It's all red and wrong and raging. Help. I need to get her help."

"Who? Who needs help?" Bull demanded. 

"The lion and the steed," Cole replied, as though that explained everything. 

Bull stared at him blankly. 

"You mean the commander and inquisitor?" Krem guessed. 

"Yes."

Instantly there was a grinding of wooden chairs being pushed back as Bull and all of his Chargers surged to their feet. "Where are they?" Bull demanded. 

"In the dungeons. Varric is already waiting." 

"I'm going too," Dorian announced. The mage had barely left Bull's side since their return, despite his attempts at sending him to his room to rest (the damn Vint never could cope with the cold wet at Storms Edge). 

Bull wanted to say no, to tell him to stay behind - if whatever the enemy was had taken down the boss then they had to be plenty powerful and trained against mages - but he also knew that saying such a thing would only infuriate Dorian. Instead he gave a nod in acknowledgement and said, "The dungeons are cramped. Krem, you take the rest of the Chargers and wait in the court yard. Make sure you keep any on lookers out of the way. Stitches, be ready for anything. If they're in pain then they're injured and we don't know what that will involve," Bull commanded as they all left the tavern and crossed the court yard, Cole running along next to him. Already people were drawn to them, watching, knowing that something was going on even if they didn't know exactly what it was. 

"There you are, was wondering when you would show up," Varric said, his levity hiding the concern he felt. 

"Stay behind me, and take out any spell casters," Bull commanded, before leading the charge into the dungeons. The screaming that they couldn't hear out in the yard acted as beacon, drawing them through the well maintained area where the Inquisitions prisoners were kept until the boss could deal with them. It was the boss's voice, Bull was sure of that, but the screams were inhuman, like nothing he had ever heard her make before, even when she was injured in their fighting. It reminded him of Seheron, of the innocents caught up in the fighting, of torture. It fuelled the rage within him as he rushed down the corridor to the less maintained section of the castle's dungeons. There were guards there, two of them, but Varric's bolt cleared one and Cole materialized behind the other, his dagger sliding across the throat, before Bull even got there. He shouldered open the door, his large frame and strength easily busting it open. 

"Go! See who it is! Do not let them interrupt us!" a familiar voice ordered from one of the cells near the crumbling floor. 

A templar ran out followed by a Venatori. Seeing them, Bull let out a low growl seeing the Venatori, here within Skyhold and charged. Cole had vanished but between the three of them they were dispatched relatively quickly, Dorian's magic and Varric's bolts taking down the Venatori before he could cast anything and Bull taking the attention of the templar so he couldn't negate Dorian's magic, killing him easily, each attack increasing his rage. They were soon given a hint as to where Cole had vanished to.

"What the-"

"Where did he come from?"

"Get h- arh!"

Bull followed the sounds of the spirit's attacks, but as he rounded the corner to the cell he was pushed aside by another templar. The templar ran down the crumbling path way towards the missing wall. There was no where for the man to go but Bull started to run after him anyway. He expected the man to skid to a halt when he reached the end of the hallway but instead he leapt and it was Bull who was left to stop suddenly lest he follow him over the edge. Dismissing him as the one that got away, a coward who would rather take his own life than face the Inquisition's justice, Bull spun in time to see a bolt of ice go shooting out of one of the cells, shattering against Dorrian's shield and sending him staggering. That meant that there were more Venatori to contend with and Bull changed directions, charging into the cell, his large two-handed axe decapitating the first robed enemy he saw. The final one fell when Cole materialized behind him, his blades sinking into his back.

Huffing a few breaths to calm the rampaging rage inside him, Bull now took the time to look around the cell they were in. Both Cullen and Azalea were chained to opposite walls, both hanging limply, unconscious and looking the worse for wear. "Varric, go keep watch. Shout if you see any movement, friendly or otherwise," Bull said. Varric nodded and left. 

Bull heard Dorian swearing in his native tongue as they took in the injuries they both had. Bull went first to Azalea and, once Cole took a hold of her body, he took the chains, yanking them clear off the wall so she could be lowered gently to the ground. He then did the same with Cullen as Dorian checked their life signs. "They're both alive," he said, "but... There's something wrong with the Azalea."

"An injury?" Bull asked. 

"No, not exactly, though she has plenty of them. It's more that... something is absent. I don't understand it," Dorian said, a frown causing crease lines to appear between his eyebrows. Bull knew the mage hated not understanding something especially when it came to magic, and that it involved the Inquisitor made it all the worse. 

"Well whatever it is, we can deal with it later. Let's get them out of here," Bull said. He picked up the commander, grunting a little when he was heavier than he looked - not that that was a problem, it was just unexpected. "Dorian, are you able to lift the Boss?" he asked.

"I'm not that weak," Dorian replied, his sarcastic drawl back. He took her gently in his arms in the same way that Bull was carrying the commander. Cole led the way out, daggers still in hand, until they met up with Varric.

Going outside, Bull found that a crowd had gathered, but the Chargers were doing a good job keeping them back. Krem's eyes widened seeing the shape the commander and the boss were in and so did the rest of the crowd. Instantly shouts, questions, and rumours sprung up from those close enough to see. Bull ignored them all, saying only to Krem, "Go and get Lelliana and..." he trailed off, not really sure who else would be needed, who the boss would trust when she was like this.

"Chuckles. And the Seeker too. Actually, I'll get them," Varric added. 

When Krem glanced to Bull, he added in agreement. He wasn't sure if the Boss really liked Solas but he couldn't deny that his knowledge of the Fade would be useful in identifying what this 'missing' thing that Dorian mentioned was. Bull heard Krem shouting to the gathered crowds, telling them to break up, that there will be an announcement on what had happened as soon as possible and he left him to it, knowing he was more than capable. Instead, he and the others entered first the great hall then up the stairs to the Boss's room. The bed there was big enough for the two of them and, secretly, Bull thought that maybe it would help if they were laid next to each other. It was probably considered inappropriate by these southern standards, but right now he only wanted what was best for the Boss and the commander. 

"They still haven't stirred," Dorrian said, his voice low with concern.

"Mmm," was all Bull said and he went to light a fire to warm the room.

***

Cassandra was having a little time to herself, up in her loft above the blacksmith and enjoying some reading time. She had a chair pulled up to the window for her to sit in where the light was best for such things. As it was she was so absorbed in her novel that she didn't notice the commotion going on outside.

"Seeker."

Cassandra looked up at the calm voice to see Solas standing there. A little embarrassed to be caught idling away her time, she quickly snapped the book shut and put it aside, standing to cover her movement. If Solas noticed, and she was sure he likely had since the elf missed very little, he gave no sign of it. "What is it?" she asked. 

"Perhaps you should take a look outside," was all he said, though he moved to stand next to her when she turned to look out the window.

Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise at what looked like a mob starting to form in the courtyard, the Bull's Chargers doing all they could to keep them back from the stairs that led up to the great hall. "What on earth is going on out there?" she wondered aloud.

"It seems there has been a Venatori attack within Skyhold itself. The commander and Trevelyan were both in the middle of it and injured," Solas said, his voice still infuriatingly calm.

"What?!" Cassandra nearly shouted, rounding on Solas. "Why am I only being told about this now!"

"Because the only person who knew about it was Cole. And he chose to fetch Bull and Varric first. They have rescued them and they now need our assistance in the Inquisitor's rooms."

Cassandra moved away from the window and grabbed her sword and shield. "Cole didn't go to you?" she asked, surprised. She knew the spirit creature enjoyed Varric's company so would go to him for help, but Bull over Solas was unusual. 

"No," was all Solas would say, however. 

Feeling significantly less vulnerable now that she had her weapons, especially if there had been a venatori attack on Skyhold itself, Cassandra led the way towards the Great Hall. "If you weren't aware of it until now, how did you find out?" she asked as she pushed through the people milling around.

"Varric came to get me. He asked if I could get you. I believe he feared you would throw him out a window if you saw him again, before he got a chance to explain what was going on." Solas's face was neutral, but there were slight crinkles at his eyes to suggest barely withheld mirth.

"Hmm," was all Cassandra said on the matter. She hated to admit it but it was probably true.

Climbing the stairs to the inquisitor's room, they arrived in time to hear one of Bull's men - Cassandra couldn't recall their names even as she recognised the voice - say in a gruff voice, "You. Go get a basin of water and heat it. Your magic should be able to do that. And you, go find some clean cloths. I need to clean the blood away to see what kind of injuries they have." Cassandra exchanged an amused look with Solas as they reached the main floor of the bedroom to see Varric and Dorian hurrying about to do the man's bidding. Bull was by the fire, standing after having just lit it, and on the bed were the unmoving forms of Trevelyan and Cullen. 

"Glad to see you've finally arrived, Seeker," Varric said.

Cassandra spared him barely a glance as she went to the bedside and looked down. Someone had stripped the two of them down to their small clothes Bull's man, Stitches she suddenly remembered, was in the process of gently wiping away the blood from both of them. Cullen looked to be by far the worse injured of the two, barely an unblemished patch of skin available that she could see, but he was starting to move and stir already. The Inquisitor, however, was as pale as the white sheets she laid upon. She had the same strange burn marks on her skin as Cullen did. Her face and stomach was bruised but, apart from that and the chains still around both of their wrists, she didn't seem to be badly injured. However, but for the light rising and falling of her chest Cassandra would have mistaken her for dead. 

"Move out of the way," Stitches suddenly ordered her gruffly, shoving his way in between her and the Inquisitor. 

Cassandra was about to say something in response before she thought better of it. The man was only doing what he could to help them. 

Solas, however, stepped up behind him and said, "You take care of the Commander. He doesn't react well to magic being used on him. I can see to Trevelyan."

The gruff man seemed to accept that and gave a nod, moving around to the other side of the bed to tend to Cullen instead. 

"There's something... wrong with Azalea," Dorian said, as he returned with a steaming basin of water. "Something missing. I don't know what they did to her, but whatever it is I can't sense her magic any more."

Solas glanced at Dorian when he said that then back to Trevelyan. Cassandra watched as his hands glowed a moment around her head and chest, then her eyes widened as she saw the magic seem to be drawn into the mark on Trevelyan's hand, to be absorbed by it. "Is that meant to happen?" she asked.

"No," he responded. "There is templar magic, if I can call it that, lingering on her still, cutting her off from the fade and her magic. I suspect that is how they overcame her so quickly."

"There were templars there. And Venatori as well. We killed all the mages we found but one of the templars jumped off the edge of the building," Bull said from where he stood by the fire place.

"I will have agents sent out to see what they can find," Lelliana said as she climbed the stairs and entered the room. "I have already sent some to move around the castle, try to find out how they got past our defences without us knowing about it."

Cassandra nodded to Lelliana, both in greeting and in agreeing with her announcement. "Do you sense anything Solas?" she asked.

"No, and that is disturbing. What is even more disturbing is that I can sense red lyrium on her," he replied.

"What? You think there's some of that stuff here in the castle?" Varric asked.

"I don't know. I doubt it as I suspect it would have been found in the renovations by now if it was. Likely it was some kind of device. Were any of the templars you saw red templars?" he asked.

"Na, just regular ones. They were all wearing their helmets so they could have had some corruption, but nothing we could see," Bull said. 

"Lelliana, could you get some of your people down there and recover the bodies? We should examine them," Cassandra said. 

"Already taken care of. I haven't looked at them yet, but they are locked in the safer part of the dungeon, away from any prying eyes," Lelliana responded. 

Just then they were all interrupted by a strangled cry as Cullen seemed to lurch into the world of wakefulness. He roughly shoved Stitches aside as he tried to right himself. Cassandra and Lelliana, as the ones closest to him and who he was most familiar with, hurried to his side. "It's alright, Cullen, you're safe," Lelliana said as Cassandra tried to coax him to lay back down.

"Azalea," Cullen started.

"She's right there next to you. She's just sleeping," Lelliana said. Cassandra glanced at the woman, a little surprised with the lie, though she understood why it was given. Especially since it seemed to have the desired effect as Cullen lay back down again more willingly, a hand resting on the body beside him. 

"Here, give him this," Stitches said as he passed a flask to Cassandra.

"Drink this, Cullen. It will help," she said.

"Not lyrium," he murmured. 

"It's not lyrium. Just water with some things in it that will help the pain," Cassandra said. Really she had no idea what was in it but it was a fair guess and it was enough for him to allow her to help him drink it. Once it was downed, he lay back and was asleep again within moments.

"Should we have sent him to sleep so quickly? We could have found out more of what's going on," Varric said.

"Anything he said now wouldn't be coherent anyway," Bull said. Unfolding his arms, he pushed himself away from the hearth and continued, "I'm going to go see how my boys are doing dispersing those crowds. You know where to find me if you need me," he said.

Knowing that there was nothing more they could do, one by one the others made their excuses and left until there was only Stitches, Solas, and Cassandra remaining in the room. Solas and Stitches spoke quietly as they each worked on healing their respective charges and Cassandra, needing to feel useful, went over to the Inquisitor's desk, intending to do some of her requisition work for her while she was out. She was at it for several hours before a shadow moved across her page. Looking up she saw Solas standing there.

"I am going to rest for the night. If there is no change in the Inquisitor by tomorrow morning I intend to step into the Fade to look for her," he said.

"Will that be possible? With what the templars did?" Cassandra asked.

"In truth, I do not know," Solas replied, glancing over to the bed. He was worried, Cassandra could see that. Even though he may not always agree with the Inquisitor, he still seemed to care for her and wanted her to succeed. "But I have nothing else to try," he continued, oblivious to her scruitany. "Perhaps I can convince Cole to help me. But regardless, I will need my strength."

Cassandra nodded. "Go ahead," she said. "I will stay here tonight, I think. If there's any change I'll let you know."

With a nod, Solas took his leave. Stitches, Cassandra saw, was snoring quietly in his seat next to the bed. She considered waking him, telling him to seek his own bed, but then dismissed the idea; if he had wanted to do that he would have. Here at least, he was close at hand if Cullen woke again. Instead she went back to what she was doing, if only to keep her mind active.


	11. Waking

_Ellisa Amell. That was her name. A beautiful young mage who lived in the tower and one of Cullen's charges. He was responsible for watching her during her training, to keep an eye out for any hint of demonic possession, to ensure that she not take an undue interest in blood magic or necromancy. She wasn't aloof like the other mages under his watch. She was always polite and often spoke to him, even though such interaction was generally frowned upon. If she was staying up late studying, causing him to need to stay up late as well, she would always make an extra cup of tea for him to drink as well. It was a silly, immature infatuation, but it was his. He could daydream about it, enjoy it in the privacy of his own room when he was finally allowed off for the night. He would entertain fantasies of what it might be like if he could only get up the courage to ask her on a date, a proper date, not one where he was required to constantly watch her for signs of possession. They could, perhaps, find a secluded room where they could enjoy a candle lit dinner, talk about books they had read and enjoy. Then, maybe, they could find some time to be alone, to be perhaps a little more... intimate._

_But then it was her harrowing. Privately she had confided with him that she was scared of it. She knew what would happen should she fail and she wasn't confident in her abilities. He had comforted her, reassured her that she had studied and practiced and never before shown any hint of demonic possession. Oh how wrong he had been. They showed that part, over and over and over again. First him gathering the courage to hug her, to comfort her. Then his sword descending on her bared neck, severing her head from her body, taking three strikes because he was too much of a coward to put all his strength into the attack. Her head fell, the neck roughly cut, the vertebrae protruding several inches from the muscles and spurting blood, it rolled and when it stopped, the eyes were staring at him, accusing him. The mouth moved, speaking with a cracked, tortured, unnatural voice. "I trusted you. You said nothing would happen to me. You betrayed me! Traitor! Deceiver! Betrayer! Traitor! Deceiver! Traitor-"_

_"I'm not!" Cullen shouted. He was in the circle again, in that magical prison. He tried pushing through the barrier but it was agony to try, it left his muscles convulsing for hours. And if he kept trying he knew what would happen. One of his fellow templars, a man named Patrick, had tried, refusing to give in to the tortures the demons were tormenting them to, preferring to die. It was hard to die without a weapon or anything that could be used as a weapon, but Patrick had managed it. He had thrown himself against the barrier, again and again and again, his screams echoing around the room, a constant to the images that kept flashing through Cullen's own mind. The screams would stop momentarily whenever he fell unconscious but they would always continue again as soon as he woke. And then the silence between the screams grew longer and longer until he didn't rise again. A horrible way to go, but a noble one, refusing to give in to the demons. If only Cullen wasn't such a coward he would do the same, take himself before the demons got a hold of him, possessed him like they did Phillip, and Nathan, and Kayley, and Thomas. All of them, the demons took them, they took their minds and then they took their bodies. And they wanted Cullen's too._

_No! He could not allow it! He had to be strong, he had to hold out. Summoning what courage he could, he threw himself at the barrier once more. The shock of it instantly knocked him onto his back, his muscles twitching as his voice, already ragged from previous screams, continued to voice his pain in a haggard cry._

_Gasping, Cullen rolled onto his side, only to be confronted with someone starring back at him from the other side of the barrier. It was Amell again, but she was carrying her head, holding it before her like some kind of precious orb. Tears of blood was streaming from the eyes even as blood leaked over her hand from the savaged neck. "Betrayer," it whispered, the harsh sound going right inside his brain. "Traitor! Deceiver!" He rose hands to his ears, trying to block out the sounds of the accusations but it made no difference. "You killed me when you swore to protect me. You killed my family. You killed children. You killed them all! Deceiver! Traitor! Betrayer!"_

_He tried squeezing his eyes shut, shaking his head no even as he didn't entirely believe it any more. He HAD betrayed her, it was all his fault. He was the reason she had resorted to accepting the demon. He was the reason they all had, all the mages. None of them could be trusted but neither could he. Opening his eyes again, he was confronted once more with the mage holding her own head, only this time it was different. The robes weren't Circle robes, they bore the Inquisition insignia, and it was Azalea's head being carried._

_"I trusted you, Cullen," the disembodied head said, the voice resounding within his head despite his best attempts to block it out. "I loved you. You taught me to love you even after all other templars had betrayed me. It turns out I was right. I never should have trusted you. I never should have loved you. You killed me just like you killed her. I hate you. I hate you! I HATE YOU!!!"_

_"Nooooo-"_

"-ooooo!" Cullen launched upwards, then cried out once more as pain shot through his chest at the sudden movement. He was covered in a cold sweat and his eyes swung around wildly, trying to take everything in and work out where he was.

"Easy, lad," a voice said, and Cullen reached to his hip for a sword that wasn't there, ready to attack whoever it was that had spoken before he started to recognise things around him. That fireplace. The large door-windows. The couch. The desk, with someone slumped over it asleep. And then the man who was sitting in a chair next to his bed. He was in the Inquisitor's bedroom, he realized. He had been in the dungeons, and now he was here.

"Azalea?" he called out frantically. Surely that last image hadn't been real. Surely he hadn't killed her as well like he had killed the Amell girl.

"It's alright. She's right there next to you," the man in the seat said. 

Sure enough, looking to his right side, he saw here there, pale as the sheets she was laying on, asleep, but thankfully whole with no sign of having ever lost her head. "Thank the Maker," Cullen whispered breathlessly as he tried to slow his racing heart. Starting to calm down some more, he turned his attention back to the bearded man who was speaking to him. He was familiar but he didn't think he had ever met him before. "Who are you?" he asked frankly, not feeling well enough for pleasantries. 

"They call me Stitches," he said, standing. "I'm part of Bull's Chargers. The elfy mage said you didn't like magic being used on you so I've been the one patching you back up." Elfy mage? He must have meant Solas, Cullen thought. "Now, while you're up you're going to let me change the bandages from where those baddies messed you up, then you're going to take something to put you back to sleep."

"No," Cullen said instantly.

"What did you say?" Stitches said, clearly unused to being told no when it came to healing and a patient in his care.

"I said no," Cullen repeated, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. "I don't want anything that will keep me asleep," he verified, a hand running through his sweat soaked hair, hitting a bloody patch on the bandage around his head and wincing. He helped Stitches remove the bandages where he could, managing not to complain about how the dried blood pulled. "I don't want to be trapped in my nightmares, unable to wake again."

"Mph," was all Stitches said at first as he focussed on redressing Cullen's wounds. He didn't even really remember how he got most of them and, frankly, he didn't want to remember, not fresh on the heals of a horrific nightmare. Instead, he rested a hand on Azalea's thigh, reassuring him of her presence as he focussed on his breathing the way she had taught him, using it to still his mind so he wouldn't keep remembering what he had just seen. "I'll give you some elfroot tea then," Stitches said eventually as he tied the last of the fresh bandages in place. "It'll make you drowsy and ease some of the pain, but it won't hold you to sleep. You won't even have to sleep with it, it'll just make you relax. Deal?"

Cullen nodded. "Deal," he said. He looked to Azalea again. She hadn't even stirred, not even when he had woken so violently and shouted right next to her. She was still so pale and her skin was clammy to the touch. "What did they do to her?" he asked. 

"Dunno," Stitches said from the table where he was mixing things together. "She was like that when the Boss brought you both out. The elfy mage was going to let her rest until morning then do something in the Fade or something. Didn't understand much of it. Didn't take much notice either."

That wasn't particularly reassuring, but if Solas was willing to wait until morning it meant that whatever was wrong with her shouldn't get any worse. "Do you know if they killed or apprehended Caleb?" he asked, accepting the tea as it was handed to him.

"Who?" Stitches asked. 

"Caleb Trevelyan. Azalea's brother. He was involved in all this," Cullen said. He took a sip of the tea and grimaced at the taste; he was never really tea fan, though he knew that Azalea loved the brew. It was made even worse with the addition of the bitter elfroot. 

"The templar with the short black hair and green eyes?" Stitches asked. Cullen nodded. "Nope, dunno anything about him. You should probably tell that to the Seeker when she wakes up," he said, indicating the body slumped over the desk in the corner of the room. It was only now that it was pointed out to him that Cullen recognised her in the shadows. 

"How did I not wake her," he wondered as he forced down another gulp of the foul tea. 

Stitches chuckled at that. "Damned if I know. Probably bored to death doing paper work. It would send me to a sound sleep as well," he said. 

Holding his breath, Cullen forced down the last of his tea and handed the cup over. "Thank you," he said, laying back down. "For the tea and for patching me back up." Stitches only nodded to that, returning to his seat once more and tipping it back against the wall, his eyes closing to rest as well. Cullen, for his part, rolled over on to his side, one arm draping across Azalea's still form. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear. "Come back to me, my love. I need you here. Come back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it when a chapter just writes itself <3


	12. Buried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas searches the Fade for Azalea.

"You're saying that Trevelyan's brother was the mastermind behind this?" Cassandra asked.

Cullen nodded. Cassandra, Lelliana, and Josephine were gathered in the Inquisitor's room, Cassandra having summoned the other two women as soon as Cullen woke once more. Ordered to remain in bed by Bull's man Stitches, Cullen sat with his back against the headboard, one hand resting almost possessively on Azalea's shoulder. The Inquisitor was still, to all appearances, asleep, pale and on death's door. Stitches had looked over her body as well and, apart from applying a poultice to the worst of her burns and dribbling some elfroot concoction down her throat, he had claimed there was nothing more he could do; her unresponsive state wasn't due to any physical injuries he could determine. 

"That could cause quite a problem with the Inquisitor's family," Josephine said. "Do you suppose Maria is aware of her son's allegiances? She did not seem the type of woman who would tolerate such a thing from when I was speaking to her."

"I doubt it," Cullen said. "The whole time Caleb was here prior to this he seemed perfectly polite. I even saw him in the chapel once, praying."

"The Trevelyans are known for their piety," Lelliana added.

"Except perhaps for Azalea," Josephine added with a smile. 

"Only after becoming the Inquisitor. Before that, while she was at the Circle, my reports say that she was quite pious as well," Lelliana said.

Cullen remained silent; he knew that the only reason Azalea seemed less religious now than she had before was because she was intimidated by who she was now required to live up to. "Maria is entirely focused on the family's reputation. That was the whole reason for the deceit of Azalea's affections in the first place." Cullen didn't like talking about such things openly - he preferred his private life remain private - but he also knew from their teasing that both women were aware of his and the Inquisitor's relationship. "If the fact that her son was siding with the Venatori got out, I suspect she would be furious and definitely not complicate."

"I agree," Lelliana said. 

"Have you had any success in finding Caleb?" Josephine asked.

"No," Lelliana answered. "We found some blood in the snow where the castle has crumbled, and tracks leading away but only where the snow is sheltered from the wind. After that any traces of his passage have been obscured."

"I wonder what it is they wanted," Josephine said quietly, looking with worry down at Azalea's sleeping form. "And if whatever it was, they got it."

"I doubt it," Cullen said. He tilted his head back to rest against the headboard. He was growing tired again and his head was pounding but he would never admit as such. Bad enough that he had been overpowered and used in such a way against Azalea, the last thing he wanted to accept further was that his lyrium withdrawal was still raging. "If they had gotten what they wanted I doubt they would have still been there for the others to find them. But we likely won't know for sure until Azalea wakes up." If she wakes up, he thought darkly, before shaking his head a little to rid himself of such thoughts. He had to believe that she would wake, that she would be fine. Or at the very least, that Solas would be able to help her. Speaking of which, "Where's Solas?" he asked.

"I'm here," a voice called. Solas's head appeared between the bars of the banister as he climbed the stairs. "I am glad to see you awake Commander," he added. He glanced down to Azalea. "Not so glad that the Inquisitor has yet to wake."

"At least she hasn't gotten worse," Cassandra said.

"What do you plan to do?" Cullen asked, his hand tightening slightly on Azalea's shoulder in unconscious apprehension. 

"To enter the Fade and try to find her if she is there."

"Didn't you say the templar abilities cut her off from the Fade?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes, but they do not last so long forever. Unless she is tranquil of course but I am not convinced that such a thing could be possible with her mark," Solas replied. There were bruises on her wrists from where the manacles had been (the blacksmith had come and removed them not an hour ago) and Solas hovered a hand over one of them. There was a slight glow as magic was used only this time it didn't skitter away to be absorbed by the mark. Instead it did as it was supposed to and the bruise faded somewhat. "That's good," he said.

"Why?" Cullen asked, confused. 

"Last time I tried it, while you were unconscious, her body wouldn't accept the magic and it was all absorbed by the mark on her hand. I didn't know why at first but now I believe it was because of the lingering templar magic-dampening. Her body couldn't accept the magic and so it was drawn to the only thing that could: the mark, her connection to the fade. If I can get her to wake and she recovers-"

"When," Cullen cut in, refusing to accept 'if', nevermind that he had just thought it not five minutes ago.

"If," Solas countered firmly. "There is no guarantee, though I will do my best. If she recovers, then I would like to see how we could possibly use her mark to counter templar abilities. It might be possible to use it to shield her from it entirely."

"One thing at a time," Cassandra said.

Solas nodded to that. "Cole, are you still willing to help me?"

"Yes."

Cullen's head snapped upwards (a move he instantly regretted as it sent a lance of pain through his head) to see Cole sitting on the banister of the mezzanine level. "How long have you been there?" he demanded, put off by the spirit's unnatural ability to be anywhere and to hide his presence from others.

"Not long," he replied. The spirit vanished then, only to instantly reappear by Solas's side. 

"Can you hear her?" Solas asked.

Cullen watched as Cole's eyes clouded over. For quite a few moments he was silent. Then, "It hurts but it doesn't. I'm safe here, I don't have to be hurt any more. Why? Why would he do this? I want to know but I don't want to know. I want to stay but I want to go." He fell silent once more, then his eyes seemed to clear. "She isn't always there. She's somewhere else."

"What does that mean?" Cullen demanded. "Is she alright or isn't she?"

"I suspect it is not so simple, but I shall try. Cole, are you willing to help me?" Solas asked.

Cole shook his head violent. "I don't want to be a demon." 

"You won't be. I'll protect you from that, I promise," Solas said, his voice gentle. 

Cole's eyes locked on to Solas's and, unless he was mistaken, Cullen could have sworn there was some kind of silent communication going on between the two of them, something he was not privy to. It made the hairs on the back of his arms raise up.

"Alright," Cole eventually said, before vanishing.

"I will appear asleep to you. Do not wake me unless something starts to happen," Solas said. He sat on the floor and rested his back against the side of the bed. His head dropped down and that was it. 

"And now we wait," Josephine said.

"And now we wait," Cassandra echoed. 

***

Entering the Fade was simple for Solas, and reassuring for its familiarity. It always reflected where he was in some shape or form, but within that his own recent experiences and moods changed it as well. The first time they arrived at Skyhold he had walked through the Fade, observing how the fortress had been built by a people long since gone. Then it had been with a mood of discovery and learning and that had been what the Fade reflected back at him. Another time he had been angry; Sera had decided to play a prank on him, replacing some of his papers with ones she had doodled all over, most of the doodles being crude in nature. Then he had witnessed the fortress under attack. This time it was to search for someone and, being that one's mental projection was always tied in some way to one's body, and the fact that his physical body was sitting right next to Azalea's, this section of the Fade was hers. Skyhold was almost unrecognisable from what he knew it to look like. The stone walls around them were crumbling and ruined. There was no roof, it opened to the sky. A sky that was constantly shot through with furious purple lightning. There was no thunder to go with it, only a soft, electrical humming, quiet but incessant. Shot through the walls and the floor were red crystals, red lyrium he guessed. He could sort of hear it, a kind of song in the back of his mind that vanished whenever he tried to focus on it or recall the notes. There were practically mountains of the stuff and occasionally the purple lightning would dance between the highest points of it. 

Solas walked around a few of the crystals, trying to locate Azalea. He didn't know if this was something her mind had entirely conjured up or if it was something that had happened in Skyhold's past but in truth it was only his academic curiosity that needed to know that; it was irrelevant to finding Azalea. Rounding a corner and stepping over a pile of stone rubble, Solas stopped in his tracks. There before him was a mound of red lyrium three times as wide and half again as tall as he was. What was unusual about it, however, was that there was a girl sitting inside it. Her dark hair was unbound and falling around her shoulders, her knees were drawn up and her head resting on them, with her arms wrapped around her shins. Her shoulders shook, but he could hear nothing from her. For all intents and purposes she looked like a dragonfly trapped in amber, though he knew the truth was far more horrific. Stepping up to the crystal, but not daring to touch it, Solas knelt down in front of the girl. 

"Who are you?" he asked gently.

The girl lifted her face and Solas felt his heart leap with recognition. It was Azalea, but younger, much younger. No more than a child really, but he would recognise those stunning green eyes anywhere, eyes that when he had first met her, he had been convinced must come from some long distant elven legacy. Those eyes still seemed to be the same as he remembered, however, carrying the same weight as the modern Trevelyan did, even as the child's face was creased with fear. What was inexplicably different was a red mark on her forehead. As he watched, it seemed to leak almost, crystal-like tears falling from it to be absorbed by the red lyrium around her. She cried, and blood flowed from her eyes instead of tears. Her mouth moved but Solas could hear no words. 

"Cole, can you help me? I can't hear what she's saying," Solas said.

"Yes," Cole said from where he was standing behind Solas. The mage didn't know how long he had been standing there but it didn't matter; he was here now when he needed him. Cole walked forward and, without even hesitating, walked through the crystal and sat cross-legged in front of the girl. Solas heard both their voices in his head. 

"Who are you?" he asked again.

 _"Azi,"_ the girl answered into Solas's mind. _"Can you help me? I want my magic to go away, I want to go home, I don't understand any of this."_

"This is the Fade. It is only your dreams," Solas said, trying to keep his voice calm and reassuring.

_"Lydia said there are demons in the Fade, that they will possess me if I come here unprepared. Are you going to possess me?"_

_"I'm not a demon!"_ Cole said firmly.

 _"Then What are you? How are you here?"_ The girl started crying again, tears of blood streaking down her face. _"Where's Caleb? I want to go home!"_

The girl vanished then and Cole with her, leaving only another ordinary lyrium crystal behind. Solas stood and looked around. He wasn't sure what he had just seen, a memory of some kind, altered of course, but what was its importance? Choosing a random direction, knowing he would find her when she was ready, Solas walked as his mind sought to untangle what he had seen. As he walked, the landscape changed slightly, though the crystals and the electricity remained the same. Instead here and there were dead bodies. Solas gripped his staff tightly, half expecting the bodies to rise, but they remained still. As he walked there were more and more bodies, and the smell became stronger as well, a mixture of cooked meat and sickly sweet rotting flesh. Soon he could no longer walk around or step over the bodies, he was forced to step on them as they began to be piled higher and higher. He nearly missed the crystal when he came across it; it was nearly entirely buried by dead bodies. Using his staff to move a few out of the way, he looked down through it. Once more, there was Azalea trapped within, he could see the top of her head, her hair in a simple long braid down her back this time, practical and simple. She didn't look, she simply stared at the bodies that surrounded her and buried her. It was Cole's voice Solas heard within his mind as he read her thoughts.

_"So many dead and I am the cause. So many grieving mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, nephews and neices and cousins and friends. Every single life, snuffed out with no more thought than snuffing out a candle. A flame is alive, a candle provides it life and we snuff it out when it is no longer needed as I snuff out these lives. How can I be Andraste's Herald? Andraste would never allow such horror, such destruction. And it's simple. So simple."_

Azalea looked up then and stared intently at Solas. _"And I could do it right now, to you."_ And then she was gone again. Heart pounding, Solas had been sure that he was about to be attacked. There had been hatred and power in her eyes, and the red crystal mark growing from her forehead had spread up through her temples. Her eyes, instead of being the soft forest green, were red, the whites streaked with the red lyrium that was overtaking her. But she hadn't attacked and Solas forced himself to calm down; it wouldn't do to attract any demons with his fear. 

Slowly, carefully, Solas climbed down from the mountain of bodies and continued walking. He would find her again, he was sure of that, but then what? Somehow he had to convince her that none of this was real, that she had to return and come back. He just didn't know how. 

The path Solas was following led downwards and Solas took the steps slowly. It wound down and down and down until the sky, unnatural though it was, was blocked out entirely. He was descending into darkness but in the distance he could see a flickering light. A fire, he guessed by by the irregular illumination. He saw the crystal from a distance this time, it lit up brilliantly by the unnatural fire flickering before it. The fire, he saw as he approached, gave off no heat and the cave he was in was cold, and the flames themselves were stilled as though it were merely a painting of a fire. Despite this, the light it gave off was real enough and it flickered as though the flames were moving. The whole thing was rather unnerving. Azalea was sitting with her back to the wall of the cave, still encased in red lyrium. Her head was tilted back resting against the stone and her eyes were closed. She seemed tired and worn out. There was a fresh wound over her eyebrow that bled in a steady stream down her face, staining her robes. Circle robes, he recognised. The red crystal in her forehead had spread as well; it now encircled her face and spread down her neck. Cole was there, standing next to her, and Solas saw him swaying slightly.

"Azalea, you have to wake up, you need to leave this place," Solas said.

 _"Why?"_ came the response, her voice sounding as exhausted as she looked. 

"You are the Inquisitor," Solas said. "You are needed."

_"So?"_

Hearing something, Solas spun around. There, blocking the exit was a despair demon. Instantly he threw up a shield, preventing it from coming any closer, but the thing didn't seem interested in that just yet. Instead it just hovered there, it's icy presence dropping the temperature of the cave by several degrees. Moving to the side of the cave so he could keep an eye both on the demon and on Azalea he kept talking, kept trying. 

"None of this is real, Azalea. You have to trust me," he said.

_"No I don't. Everyone I trust betrays me, so why bother. I should just stay here."_

"Not everyone betrays you," Solas tried desperately. "You have your friends, Dorian and Vivienne, Bull and Cassandra. You have Cullen."

A little life seemed to enter Azalea's red-shot eyes, but then it dimmed again just as quickly. _"No,"_ she said. _"He is a templar as well. He will betray me. Templars and mages cannot love each other. He is lying as well, just as everyone else is lying."_

The demon let off a screech and tried to force its way through the barrier. Solas strengthened it and threw ice towards it. It wasn't enough to kill it but it drove it off for now.

 _"Solas,"_ Cole said, his voice sounding like little more than a whisper to Solas's mind. 

"Go Cole. I will follow soon," Solas said. Cole needed no further encouragement and he vanished. Solas turned back to Azalea and knelt before her. He knew that he couldn't hear what she said, but the younger version of her had responded as though she had so he spoke with the assumption that she would hear him. "I want to help you but I will need help. I will come back for you and you must trust me," he said. He closed his eyes, and when he next opened them, he was back within the Inquisitor's bedroom in Skyhold.


	13. Unburied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long, I admit, I was distracted by playing and writing Mass Effect :) But here you go lovelies <3

The corners of Vivienne's mouth compressed and turned down slightly as she entered Skyhold. Even after the last several weeks on the road she still looked resplendent in her white robes, ebony skin, and riding her white horse. The same could not be said for Skyhold. Oh the castle was coming along, she supposed, but it was still a castle. The courtyard was still paved with mud made sloppy from hundreds of feet treading back and forth, churning it all up, and the grey walls of the castle against the grey and white mountains against the often grey sky did absolutely nothing to endear the place to her. Nonetheless, she found as she dismounted, splattering courtyard mud up the hem of her robes, it was with a sense of relief and homecoming that she handed over the reigns to the groom who met her. Curious. She had not expected to feel such a thing outside the Montsimmard Circle. Part of that, she knew, was the effect that the Inquisitor herself had on the place: the sense that something important was being accomplished went a long way in making a place feel like home. 

Walking through the castle, Vivienne's frown only deepened. People were gathered in small groups talking in hushed voices and, while a few soldiers continued to train, most were busy talking of something. Had something happened while she was gone? She had been sent to Orlais to make use of her connections to grease the wheels into getting an invite to Queen Celene's peace talk ball, which had been a marvellous success, but now she got the distinct feeling that she had missed something important. 

"Lady Vivienne."

Vivienne turned to see one of the mages addressing her. She recognised the woman, she had been with the rebel mages but, unlike the ones who truly wanted to be free from the circles and rebelled at every opportunity, this one welcomed the Inquisition's interference and the presence and safety the templars represented. She would do well in the Montsimmard Circle, Vivienne thought. She made a mental note to offer such a place to her after all this was over. "Yes, my dear?"

"My lady, do you perhaps know what has happened to the Lady Inquisitor? Do you know why she won't wake?"

"What ever do you mean, won't wake?" Vivienne asked.

"Then you don't know?"

"I was away on business, have only just returned. What has happened?"

"There was an attack, though none of us were aware it was happening. The big Qunari and the Tevinter came out carrying the Commander and the Inquisitor from the dungeons, they were both unconscious. Word is that the commander has awoken but the Inquisitor lays like death. I was hoping that... well you are one of the most powerful mages here, I was hoping you might be able to tell us why. I wasn't aware you had only just returned, I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright darling, though I think I should pay the Inquisitor a visit and see how I can assist. I will let you know if I find out any thing more."

"Thank you, my lady," the mage said, curtsying and taking her leave. 

Vivienne strode quickly through the hall and paused outside the Inquisitor's door. Bull was standing there, arms crossed across his broad chest. "Solas said he doesn't want anyone coming in to interfere," he said by way of explanation. Vivienne said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow and holding Bull's eye with her own. He only held for a few seconds before his shoulders sagged and he murmured, "Yes, ma'am," and stepped aside to let her through. 

"Thank you, my dear," she said pleasantly to him, as she stepped past. Bull wasn't really all that bad, she thought. A bit unrefined sometimes, but he could fall in line when he had to. 

Vivienne could hear talking as she climbed the stairs to the Inquisitor's room and she paused to listen. It was, perhaps, rude to eavesdrop, but she had to know what was going on and she knew that Solas would be unlikely to be willing to share.

"I have to go in there?" That was Cullen's voice, she thought. He sounded tired but, more than that, sounded truly afraid of whatever it was he was supposed to 'go into'.

"I believe that may be the only way to convince her to leave." Solas. "As much as she may trust my magic and Fade knowledge she does not trust me over all else as she does you. If you don't go into the Fade she may decide never to come back."

"You can't be serious?" Vivienne demanded, making her presence known as she came up the stairs. "Sending someone who is not a mage into the Fade is a recipe for disaster."

"I can handle any demon if that's what you're worried about," Cullen said stiffly.

"Whether you can handle them or not is beside the point. Demons would be the least of your troubles."

"Should the Inquisitor decide that she is better off not returning, a decision she is already perilously close to, and should her physical body survive such a decision which is never certain, then she will become tranquil," Solas said, a hint of finality in his voice.

That statement hung in the air for several seconds. Vivienne wasn't even sure if such a thing were possible; the Inquisitor's mark was a permanent link to the Fade, but she could not deny that Solas was more of an expert on the matter than herself, learned though she was. If he said it was possible or even likely than it was probably true.

"I will do what I can," Cullen eventually said into the silence, though Vivienne could see the man was a little paler after saying that statement. "Madame Vivienne, do you know of any way to make it easier for a non mage to enter the Fade?"

Vivienne pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with the way this was going but, lacking any alternative to offer, she was forced to go ahead with it. A tranquil Inquisitor would be worse than useless, she would be a liability. "There is a potion," she said. Looking to Cassandra, she said, "I will write a list of ingredients I will need. They shouldn't be too hard to find." Vivienne then took over the Inquisitor's desk, using a blank piece of paper and hastily writing on it. As soon as it was done, she handed it over and left as well, saying only, "I will be back soon. Once I have the ingredients it will not take long to make."

***

Cullen closed his eyes and tried to rest his racing heart. His instant refusal had been instinctive and it ashamed him now. He loved Azalea, admired her, and knew that she would do anything at all for him if he were the one in trouble. She already had. But the instinct to run from anything resembling his time in the demon's clutches was too strong to easily deny. Enough time now had past that usually it wasn't an issue, he didn't even think of it except in his dreams, and they were only coming to the fore once more because the lyrium was fading from his system. But what Caleb and his Venatori friends had done had made the memories all the more real. And the thought of willingly walking into the realm of demons was just too terrifying to bare. 

Cullen opened his eyes and looked down at the pale, unconscious form of Azalea. She was barely breathing now, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths, every now and then becoming still before rising a little again. He sucked the corner of his bottom lip in, trapping it between his teeth as he watched her. He had to do this. Solas was right; Azalea was slow to trust as it was, he knew that he was one of the only ones she trusted entirely. She was friends with others in the Inquisition, sure enough, and trusted them to do what was required of them, but that was as far as it went. 

He looked up when both Vivienne and Cassandra entered the room once more with the various ingredients needed and he watched with mild interest as Vivienne mixed them all together. All too soon it was done and she was striding over towards him, holding out a cup of something. "Drink this down, all of it. Your body will fall asleep then but your mind will wake up in the Fade. Be particularly careful not to get killed there; if you do you won't wake up," Vivienne said.

Cullen took the cup and grimaced at the dark concoction inside it. "How will I get back?" he asked.

"I can send you back," Solas said. "I will be accompanying you, if only to offer you some protection against any demons that may cause trouble."

Cullen nodded then, with a final look down at Azalea, reminding himself why he was doing this, he drank down the drink and willingly entered the Fade. 

*

When Cullen next opened his eyes the world around him was grey and misty, black, oily shadows at the edges of his vision that disappeared as turned to look at them. He was wearing his templar armour, he noticed, though over the flaming sword normally embossed on his chest were three deep score marks, as though caused by the claws of a demon, and the cloth parts of his armour appeared singed around the edges. Hearing the crunch of footsteps behind him, he spun around, only to see Solas approaching. He too looked different, perhaps the opposite of Cullen in that his normally ragged robes were pristine and, though he couldn't be sure since he was wearing a hood up over his head, he was quite sure he saw wisps of hair beneath it.

"Why do I look like this?" he asked.

"It is how you see yourself," Solas explained. "In the Fade, how you project yourself is how you see yourself. Though that will be about all you will be able to control when we find the Inquisitor. She is here in a more corporeal form and can alter more of the land around her. What you see may not make sense, it may be a reflection of her past, or how she sees her present or future, or it could even be not rooted in reality at all but the simple imaginings of her mind. When I was here last, red lyrium was corrupting her, slowly but surely. We need to find her fast."

Solas started walking in what seemed like a random direction to Cullen and he quickly followed. They were not walking long before Cullen's boots started crunching over small shards of red lyrium. They started to get bigger the further the two of them walked and Cullen felt a pressure in his head begin to mount, as though there were a sound but he couldn't quite hear it and his ears were straining to hear something that wasn't there. He could hear whispers, voices he thought, but when he tried to focus on them he could make nothing out. As they walked he started seeing shadowy shapes, indistinct at first and vanishing as they came closer. The larger the red crystals became the more solid the people appeared, though he still could not make out any faces and, as they approached, they would turn their backs to them. Cullen tried getting close to one but, as he did the figure vanished in a puff of smoke. 

"Do not touch them," Solas said. "It is likely they will not harm you but we can never be sure. They are conjured from Trevelyan's mind, only she would know who they are or what purpose they serve, if any."

Cullen nodded and instead focussed on moving forward. "How do you know this is the right way?" he asked.

"There is no right or wrong way. There is no up or down or any form of direction here that we are used to. But we seek Trevelyan and so we will find her." 

"So if we wanted to find anyone or anything here, all we would have to do is seek it and it would appear?" Cullen asked, fascinated by the idea.

"No," Solas said. "The Fade is a reflection of the physical world. We will find Trevelyan because for one, we seek her, and for two, she is in the same physical location as us."

Cullen nodded in understanding and the two of them continued on. The whispering seemed to get louder as they went and the pressure behind his eyes more pronounced. Cullen was rubbing at his forehead, just absently following Solas, when the mage stopped suddenly in front of him. Looking up, Cullen's eyes widened. There before them was a great sheet of red lyrium, translucent unlike the other opaque crystals. And standing inside it was a woman, though there seemed to be chunks of the crystal growing out of her back, arms, and legs. 

_"You should not have come."_

Cullen heard the voice in his mind. It hurt, like a sharp knife scouring across it behind his eyes, and it sounded wrong somehow, but it was also unmistakably Azalea. "I had to come. You need to return," Cullen said. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a shocked look on Solas's face, but he ignored the mage, now focussed entirely on the woman before him. 

_"No. YOU need to return!"_ she shouted and she spun around. He saw then that the crystals had encircled her face and her eyes, normally a beautiful blue-green, were red. A false wind whipped up then, blowing his hair and robes though he could feel nothing against his skin. There was a loud screech and from above the crystal two demons charged them, a despair demon and a fiery rage demon. Cullen felt a tingle over his skin as Solas threw a barrier over the two of them and he reached for a sword that wasn't there.

"You need to convince her to return," Solas said. "I will hold off the demons, but they will be drawn here continuously until she leaves. I cannot hold them off forever."

Cullen nodded and turned back to Azalea, in a way marvelling at her fury; he had never seen her angry before, she was always so patient, so caring. Now it was though their very presence offended her. Which, he supposed, was probably accurate if she really didn't want to return to the physical world. "Come on, Azalea. Caleb is gone, it's safe now, no one can hurt you," he tried, keeping his voice low, soothing, as he would speak to a spooked horse. Some of the ghostly figures surrounding them took form, or rather they took a face. Caleb's face at what Cullen guessed was at various stages of their life together. Most were happy memories he was surprised to see, the two children, so alike in looks, played happily together though there was no sound beyond the irritating whispering, their mouths moved but he could hear none of it. After a glance though, he ignored them and the way the bodies changed to reflect other memories, focussing entirely on Azalea. 

_"He hurt me,"_ a whisper said off to his left. _"He betrayed me,"_ another whisper said behind him and slight to the right. _"Why would he do that? After everything we shared?"_ That one came from the Azalea in front of him and as he watched tears of blood streaked down her face making her look even more ghoulish than she did already with the red lyrium. 

"I don't know," Cullen admitted. "But if you come back we can find out, together."

 _"No!"_ Cullen winced as the shout was like a sudden knife stabbing into his head. _"You will just do the same! Look at you TEMPLAR,"_ she near ground the word out. _"You're just like him. All smiles and nice words, with daggers underneath."_

More than the hurtful words, Cullen felt a pang in his chest at the look of absolute loathing there. It was the same look of loathing that Amell had given him when he demanded she slay all the mages in the Circle and it cut him to the core. "I used to be," he said quietly. Summoned by his own memories out of the corner of his eye he saw some of the shadowy figures around them take form into the mages he had killed, blood mages and innocents alike. "But I left all that behind. I stopped taking lyrium, remember? I told you that it was because I didn't want to be tied to the order any more and that is true but not the whole reason. The biggest reason was I wanted to give it up for you."

That seemed to give her pause and Azalea's eyes softened a little, some of the hate leaving them, though they were still stained red with blood and red lyrium. _"Why?"_ That voice was little more than a whisper in his mind, so uncertain did she sound.

"Because of what templars did to you at the Ostwick Circle. I wanted you to trust me, for me, not fear me for what I had done or might do," he said.

Confusion crossed Azalea's face and Cullen got the impression of mixed feelings, helped along with what he could see the figures around them doing. One one side of them were templars that were protecting, escorting mages, blocking them from dangers, doing what templars were ideally meant to do. But on the other side were templars twisted by hate, attacking mage-born children, even babies who could never have been tempted by blood magic. He understood then Azalea's own conflicting feelings, both regarding her brother and templars in general. 

_"How can I trust anyone? How can I trust you?"_ That whisper was even softer than the last, weaker, and unless Cullen was mistaken Azalea's image through the red lyrium seemed to be flickering, fading. 

Cullen felt a sense of urgency and somehow he knew without a doubt that, unless he got her to come back now, he would never get the opportunity again and she would be lost to him forever. And for once he knew with a rare certainty what he had to do and he didn't hesitate. "You can trust me. Because I love you, and I'll show it to you," he said. And then he strode forward, straight towards the huge red lyrium crystal. 

"Cullen, no!" he heard Solas shout but he ignored him, walking right up to the crystal and resting his hands on it. The instant he touched it the screaming in his head rose sharply in pitch and volume and he almost ran right then. But he forced his eyes open and locked them on Azalea who was staring at them. He then pushed, not in a physical sense but more of a mental of physical sense, and his hands slipped through the crystal. He followed it in and then he was surrounded by it. He could feel it ripping, burning at his flesh, he was sure his ears were bleeding from the screaming, but he ignored it all. This was what was surrounding Azalea, had been encasing her the whole time. It was no wonder she was practically driven mad from it but if she could bare it for what had to be close to forty-eight hours, he could bare it for a few minutes. A few more steps and he was right in front of Azalea and his arms wrapped around her. Despite the crystal, she felt so small in his arms and he hunched himself over her, attempting to protect her, to shield her with his body. He felt her relax against him as she had before this whole mess and, tilting his face down, he kissed her, briefly but passionately. When he pulled away, he stared her in the eyes, eyes that were starting to look more blue again. "I love you," he said. "Come back to me and we can work together to make all this right. I give you my word, not as a templar, but as a man."

Slowly, in flakes first and then in chunks, the crystals started to fall away from her body, leaving her naked and vulnerable and stirring an even stronger sense in him to protect her. But she had eyes only for him now and, finally, they seemed to reflect the love he knew she held as well. "Alright," she said, with her voice this time, and then the world crumbled away.


	14. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea recovers from the damage Caleb caused to her body and her soul, with some practical Qunari advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!! It feels so good to be writing again so hopefully I can keep at it. The cause of my burnout is now dealt with so here's to hoping more works to come. I'm also toying with a Mahanon / Bull romance that I may start writing soon so keep an eye out for that :)

Cullen leaned on the stair railing and looked down over the Skyhold garden. Azalea was sitting in the grass there with her kitten in her lap and the other inhabitants were giving her a wide berth thankfully, seeming to understand that she needed the time alone. 

"She needs to get moving to Halamshiral." Cullen turned to see Lelliana approaching to stand next to him.

"She needs more time," he countered.

"It's been a week already. And the ball will not wait for her."

Yes, it had been a week. But for four of those days Azalea hadn't gotten out of bed or even really seemed to respond to anything. She took food and water but otherwise did nothing, did not even seem to be aware when someone was speaking to her. Cullen was, perhaps, the exception. To him she would speak of the nightmares that plagued her, that had only increased in intensity since the betrayal of her brother but to all others she remained courteously silent, answering in monosyllables if at all. Privately Cullen worried that the red lyrium may have addled her brain somewhat, but that was something the Inquisition couldn't handle. It was something he wasn't even sure that he would be able to handle. As naive as Azalea was in many ways, she had grown and became someone Cullen could rely on to get things done. Without her, who would lead the Inquisition? Sure, Cassandra could probably step up into the role as Azalea had initially wanted, but Cullen knew that the Seeker was really too hot tempered for the role. No, they needed Azalea. And she needed them to somehow give her the time she needed to get over not only the damage done to her mind and body, but also to her soul.

As though reading his thoughts, Lelliana said quietly, "She won't be entirely alone. We'll be going with her, along with whoever else she wishes to come, though I suspect the only person she wants there would be you. We can continue supporting her from the Winter Palace, but unless she goes there in person the Inquisition will have no true authority. You know that."

"Yes. I know it," Cullen conceded. "That does not mean I think it right or fair." He was silent for a time then sighed. "I suppose I should try and get her ready to leave."

"Not just yet I think," Lelliana said, a queer smile on her face.

"What?" Cullen asked, confused. In answer Lelliana simply gestured over towards where the Inquisitor was sitting. Cullen turned to look and his eyes widened as he saw the Iron Bull approach her. He couldn't hear what was said from here of course, but instead of turning him away as she had done every other person who had tried to speak with her, she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, displacing the kitten that was on her lap, and followed the Qunari out of the gardens.

"Maybe she is more ready than you think," Lelliana said.

"Maybe," Cullen allowed, though he doubted it.

*

"Remind me again how this is supposed to help me?" Azalea asked as she awkwardly held the heavy sword in front of her. It was only a one handed one, one of Cassandra's that Bull had 'borrowed' apparently, but how the woman managed to hold it in one hand and heft a shield while wearing heavy plate and mail armour was beyond the slightly built mage. 

"Old Qunari technique," Bull said as he hefted a shield over his left arm. It looked pitifully small, a buckler she was told not a true shield, but he seemed comfortable enough using it. Far more comfortable than she was anyway. "I don't understand everything that went on while you were out cold, some fade and demon shit," Bull gave a shiver at that, though to Azalea it looked more like a rippling of muscle beneath the skin, "but whatever it was it scared you." Azalea looked away, uncomfortable that Bull was so openly speaking of her fears and that they were so obvious. A glint of metal by her chest caught her gaze and her eyes widened when she saw it was a sword aimed at her chest. Her eyes followed the length of the blade to the large hand holding it, then up the well muscled arm to the shoulder and familiar scared face. And kindly eyes. Eye really, though she had no doubt that had Bull not lost one of his eyes it would match the other with how it seemed to speak more than his words did about how he cared. No wonder Dorian had fallen for him. Azalea stepped back so that the blade at her chest wasn't so threatening.

"Wrong," Bull said. "Use your sword to knock it away." He stepped in and returned the sword point to where it was. "Go on, you won't hurt me," he encouraged. 

Feeling completely uncoordinated, Azalea rose the sword and awkwardly knocked away Bull's. 

"Good! Again!" he said. 

"And again!" he said when she repeated the action. "Faster this time."

And she did. The sword was heavier than her staff and weighted differently. It used different muscles to what she was used to and those muscles were soon screaming. Still though, Bull gave her no time to rest and as she became more proficient at blocking and turning aside his blade, he started being more aggressive, so that if she didn't block in time she earned a bruising tap. It gave her even more reason to concentrate only on what she was doing and stopped her mind from wandering to all the why's and what if's. She had no time to think of those things if she wanted to keep the bruises to a minimum. 

Soon enough she was panting heavily, her shirt stuck to her back with sweat, sweat that also tickled as it ran down between her breasts and stung her eyes as she blinked frantically to try to clear them. She realized suddenly that she could smell herself, that she could always smell herself and that the sweating and hard work only made it more obvious. She had not been taking care of herself, could not find the will to. Even that thought though, brief as it was, was driven out of her mind by the need to defend herself and concentrate on what she was doing. Sword work did not come naturally to her, it was not like her ice spells which seemed to have a mind of their own, that formed exactly as she thought them when she thought them. This she had to see what Bull was doing, think about how to react to it, and then make her muscles respond in just that way. Sometimes it worked, but more often it didn't and now that Bull was not stopping from letting her know when she made a mistake, it usually resulted in a bruising smack. 

Darkness was spreading at the edge of her vision and she couldn't even act surprised when, with a flick of his wrist, Bull easily knocked the sword from Azalea's hand, sending it clattering to the ground. She stared stupidly at it until Bull's large hand came crashing down on her shoulder. "Come on, Boss. Time for phase two." The hand on her shoulder steered her to the well behind the Herald's Rest and Azalea watched as he took up a bucket and tipped it over himself. There was some cloth hanging on a line that Bull purloined and handed to her but he was too slow. As soon as he turned to get it, Azalea had already dropped the bucket into the well and was in the process of pulling it up for herself when he turned back. She ignored the offered cloth and instead lifted the bucket and upended it over her head much the same way bull had. Of course it didn't look nearly as sexy as it had with Bull - that man had a way of just oozing sex without stirring any desire within Azalea to be unfaithful to Cullen. With Azalea she looked more like a drowned cat than a newly refreshed warrior. But the water was cold and it made her gasp with the sharpness of it, shocking her into instant wakefulness. It felt good and, hearing the chuckle from Bull, the tiniest of smiles tugged at her own lips. This time she took the offered cloth and used it to wipe off her face.

"Come on," Bull said. "Normally I would recommend going on a dragon hunt about now, perhaps later. Instead I owe you a drink or three."

"You do? What for?" Azalea asked. She tried to remember any bet she may have won with Bull but could not think of any. Surely if she had won against a Ben-Hassrath she would remember.

"For getting the chance to see your uptight Commander lose his cool. And for giving me the excuse to be gentle and loving to Dorian," Bull replied, shooting Azalea a grin over his shoulder.

Azalea was able to imagine such a scene between the two of them and she blushed. "Oh," was all she said. 

The two of them entered the dim tavern and ordered some drinks and, for a time, they just sat quietly and companionably and drank. One by one, others joined them, members of Bull's Chargers, and as the drink flowed, so did the stories. At first Azalea was content to sit silently and listen. And drink. No sooner did her drink get past the half way mark did either Bull or one of his men wave over a refill. And as the drink flowed, Azalea found herself starting to relax. It felt as though a tight coil within her chest or in the pit of her stomach was slowly unwinding with every mouthful she swallowed, a coil she wasn't even aware she had been carrying. Leaning forward on the table, Azalea rested her head on her folded arm. The room still rocked about her as though she were on a ship. The sensation made her feel mildly ill, but it didn't seem to bother her. Vaguely she wondered if it would be possible to tip her mug in such a way that could drink without lifting her head. Maybe she could magic it towards her. But then she dismissed that; Bull was uneasy with magic. She watched him as he laughed with his friends, retelling the story how Cullen had sent Dorian flying with a punch with much arm waving. Dorian had joined them at some point - when had that happened? - and even he was smiling a little as Bull told it. As Bull spoke, his head moved which made his horns swing around wildly, but he always seemed to know exactly where they were and was always sure that they wouldn't hit anything or anyone. Dragon horns, that's what Cole had called them. Azalea gave a snort of laughter. "The Iron Dragon," she muttered to herself with a smirk and she closed her eyes.

*

Cullen was writing at his desk when he heard the knock. "Who is it?" he called, not looking up. He had seen Azalea enter the tavern with Bull and hadn't seen her come out again. Even though he thought that maybe sharing some drinks would be good for her, he couldn't resist the twinge of worry tainted with jealousy that befell him at the sight. Nonetheless, he removed himself from the area and resolved that maybe it would help. It certainly couldn't do more harm.

"Special delivery for the Commander of the Inquisition."

That was Dorian's voice, Cullen realized with a frown. And he was drawling as though he were drunk, his Vint accent as thick as ever. Unsure what game he was playing but sure he would want none of it, Cullen nonetheless opened the door to find Dorian stepping aside to allow the huge form of the Qunari to step through and in his arms was an unconscious Azalea.

"What happened, is she alright?" Cullen demanded instantly, his brief animosity towards Dorian forgotten in his concern for the Inquisitor.

As though to prove his worry misguided, Azalea gave a rather un-ladylike burp in her sleep. Bull laughed at that and said, "She's fine. Just having a little nap. Though I'm curious to know how fine she'll be in the morning. Bar is closed so we figured we should probably let her sleep somewhere more comfortable than under a table."

"Well, thank you," Cullen said awkwardly. "I'll take her." He would have to take her to her own rooms, he realized; there was no way he would be able to get her up the ladder to his bed in this state.

"She's all yours," Bull said, handing her over. "Come on, Dorian. I've got a little something I want to try out with you. Well, actually it's a big something." 

Cullen didn't miss the bright blush that spread over Dorian's face even as he followed Bull almost eagerly out of Cullen's room, leaving him to deal with their dearly drunk Inquisitor. Maker have mercy on them, he hoped she wasn't the kind to get hang overs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is on hiatus for now. There is another chapter in a separate part but I'm not happy with it and will likely delete and/or rewrite it at some point in the future. My energies are now being devoted to my Mahanon/Bull story so check it out if you're interested. I'll also be uploading a short Fenris/FHawke story too that I'm doing for Secret Santa. I will return to this story at some point, I just need to fall in love with the characters again.


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